


Boy Division

by MyFuneralJag



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Drinking, Changing POV, Characters are kinda OC sorry, David is a whiny teenager, F/M, I can’t write smut so be warned, I suck at writing dialogue, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marko and Paul are idiots, Max may or may not be David’s biological father, Michael is confused and oblivious to everything, Michael’s kind of an ass, Mind Blanking, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sam is fed up with the Frog brothers, Sorta Sam-centric in the beginning, The movie timeline is kind fucked up but that’s okay, Truth Justice and the American Way, mind wiping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFuneralJag/pseuds/MyFuneralJag
Summary: Max is acting all lovey-dovey about a girl again. That’s nothing new to David, but when Max wants to bring his lover’s family into theirs, that’s where David draws the line. But when David starts getting attached to the mistress’s son, he isn’t that upset anymore.-Or alternatively titledCharming the Mortal: a Video Store Romance





	1. A Californiacation

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is a song by the band My Chemical Romance, if you were curious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David thinks that Max is too old for a wife.  
> David’s a little shit.  
> Michael wants to see Star again.  
> Lucy goes out with Max.  
> Michael and David smoke...and yeah.
> 
>  
> 
> Californiacation by The Red Hot Chili Peppers

She was a total babe. She was practically the definition of the word ‘babe’. If you looked up that word in the dictionary, her smiling face would occupy the entire page.

 

In all his seventeen years, Michael’s never seen anyone prettier than her.

 

Sure, his brother thought it was creepy to be following— _“stalking”_ , as Sam put it, a random chick from a concert. _What did he know?_ His brother was fifteen; Sam hasn’t been around long enough to appreciate beauty when he saw it.

 

After about ten minutes of trying to grab her attention, the chick eyed him. It felt like she was staring directly into his soul.

 

He thought this was his big break when she began to smile ear from ear at him, but his heart sank once he saw her deviously lock her arms around some blonde biker asshole, and hop onto the dude’s bike.

 

It felt like she was mentally telling him to go fuck himself. He was so damn close, but this blonde bitch was the Berlin Wall. The wall that was separating him from his prize.

 

The dude gave him a smile that was doused in pure pity. Michael was almost certain that the biker was holding back a laugh, taunting him. He could tell that the asshole knew what he wanted, but wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, that’d be _too easy._

 

And with that, she was stolen from Michael’s grasp, and whisked away into the night.

 

His brother just shrugged the whole situation off. Already bored, Sam said, “Come on, she stiffed ya,” and was pulling him away from the scene.

 

He’d have her back. He’d make sure of it.

 

* * *

 

 

Max wasn’t one to believe in “love at first sight”, but hey, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t give it a spin. It was hard to not give true love a try after meeting her.

 

“ _Lucy._ ” He loved the way that her name just melted off of his tongue. Her name would just spiral off into complete nothingness; he adored the way that happened.

 

She seemed so innocent, so pure, so delicate, so very devine; he just had to make her his. It would be difficult though. She had two older sons, perhaps if he turned them, then she would just go along with it. _Yes,_ that’s how he’d do it. He’d have David bring the both of them into the family, then Lucy couldn’t say no. It was perfect, _absolutely perfect_.

 

He closed up his store for the night, and headed out.

 

His mind wandered towards David. The boy probably wouldn’t take this well; Max had already introduced Star into the family, now he’d be adding three more. He definitely wouldn’t like this, but _oh well_ , it wasn’t David decision, it was his. His childe would have to deal with it. David wouldn’t put up a fight, last time he did, he had to go around without his fangs for a few days, _oh, David did not like that._

 

He flew there, too risky driving. The terrain just wasn’t made for cars. His children just had to live in such a horrible area. He invited them to come live with him; his house was spacious enough to manage them. David always turned him down, poor stubborn David.

 

The night was relatively quiet. He usually heard screams, beyond the hundreds, from out there, but not tonight.  _Odd._

 

He landed in front of the steps that lead to the _“abandoned_ ” hotel. The locals thought it was indeed abandoned, far from it actually. His boys had made it their own, for years. He didn’t know why they loved the old thing so much. It was ancient and decrepit, kinda like he was. He knew that they didn’t like him, _why did they like the hotel?_

Max sighed and made his way through the cave, into the hotel. They picked up his scent, as soon as he stepped in there. He could already hear their mumbled voices, talking about him. _“Max?”_ he heard David call out to him, through his mind.

 

 _“Yes, yes. I’m here, David,”_ he answered back to him. Max could already tell: David wasn’t happy to see him.

 

“What do you want, Max?” David growled out, as the elder vampire made himself present.

 

Max put his hands out, as if to say that he meant no harm. “I met this wonderful woman, Lucy’s her name. I believe that she’s the one, David, the one that I want to wed.”

 

“Oh really?” David was bored of this. This wasn’t the first time that Max showed up, saying that he found “ _the one_ ”, never was the one, the one to be eaten, he supposed.

 

“Yes, really,” Max confirmed. “I want to truly make her mine, forever.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what you said about that last chick that you got a boner for,” Paul laughed at him.

 

The younger vampire’s pot-laced grin faded when he saw how serious Max looked. “And whose fault was it, that she isn’t around anymore?”

 

Paul groaned, “I’m sorry that I accidentally pushed Julie off of a bridge.”

 

Max rolled his eyes. “‘Accidentally’, _yeah.._.”

 

“I thought she already knew how to fly!” Paul admitted in his defense.

 

“Dude, I don’t think Max even gave her his blood, yet,” Marko said as he took a drag from Paul’s joint. The other vampire just shrugged, taking his pot back from Marko, who just scowled at him.

 

“ _Well_ —“ Max started, breaking up the conversation that his drugged up children were having, “that doesn’t matter anymore. Julie was the past, and Lucy is the future.”

 

He quickly snatched the joint out of Paul’s fingers, receiving an annoyed “ _hey!_ ” from the high-out-of-his-mind blonde. “I think you’ve had enough of this—“ He glared at all of the occupants of the room. “I think you’ve all had enough. I don’t want any of you displaying this behavior in front of Lucy.” He dropped the weed and smashed it into the bottom of his shoe. “Lucy is a very refined young woman. I don’t want her to think that I raised an _embarrassment_ of a family.”

 

“You’re actually serious about this?” David butt in.

 

Max nodded. “Mhmm. More serious than a death wish.”

 

“But you can’t just—“

 

“I can’t what, David?” Max interrupted him. “I can’t get together with someone that I love? Is that it?”

 

David was obviously passed being upset, at the moment. There was no way that he could just marry her; marriage never worked with Max. She’ll be dead in a week.

 

“Love? You barely just met her!”

 

Max has literally lost his mind. Sanity was no more. Was there even sanity to begin with, though? Maybe there was, but whatever bit of sanity that Max had before, was long gone.

 

The elder vampire rolled his eyes, in disapproval. “Don’t you believe in destiny, my childe?” David didn’t respond. “Fine, don’t answer—I do, and I truly believe that she’ll be mine. Destiny brought us together, there’s no stopping this.”

 

David decided to remain quiet, for his own good. He’d let Max have his fun, but he knew that his sire’s “ _little crush_ ” would end in heartbreak. All of Max’s relationships did, that’s why you never fall in love with a human: it made you insane. Max was a clear example of this.

 

Max went on talking for awhile. David barely even listened to what he was saying, but something caught his attention. “Now, Lucy has two sons: Michael and Samuel. I want you to turn the both of them—“

 

“What?”

 

Max’s expression turned stern. “Don’t even begin with questions, David. You will do as you’re told and bring Lucy’s sons into the family.” David was about to shout something back at him, but Max stopped him. “That is enough out of you. I am your creator, _your sire_. You will listen to me.” He put on a feral grin. “And I know you don’t want to defy me. Remember what happened last time?”

 

“You ripped Davey’s fangs out!” Paul answered for David. “Oh my god. That was the funniest thing. He literally had to gum people to death.”

 

David crossed his arms in annoyance, puffed a bit of hot air out of his nose. “Shut up, Paul,” he muttered.

 

Paul didn’t. “Look at how red Davey’s face is! Someone’s embarrassed—“

 

“Shut up, Paul!” David’s face fumed just as much as he did. Paul definitely wasn’t lying about the reddening of his face.

 

“ **Be quiet, the both of you!** ” Max interjected.

 

That shut the both of them up. They just stared at there sire in silence, fearfully.

 

He regretted turning his children at such a young age. They were adults, but still acted like kindergarteners. They were all turned at the same time and age, except for Star and Laddie, perhaps being seventeen forever wasn’t the greatest idea....

 

“Now...” Max began, facing David, “I need you to find both of Lucy’s sons and turn them—using my blood. I don’t care how you do it—hypnotize them, trick them—hell, maybe just drug them. Just do it, and do it soon.” David was about to give his input on this, but Max stopped him. “That would be all, David.”

 

Max stepped out, leaving the younger vampires in an awkward silence. None of them knew what to do or say. No one dared a single word.

 

The atmosphere was just a brilliant quiet, and it stayed that way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

David was leaning up against the counter inside of Max’s video game store, a cigarette in between his lips. He smoked it, taking long drags. Asmirk formed on his lips, once he saw his sire coming right for him, extremely displeased with his actions.

 

“I thought I told you not to smoke in here.”

 

David just grinned at Max’s displeasurement. “Ah, chill, Pops,” he said, toying the cigarette around his teeth and lips. What he wasn’t expecting was Max snatching the cig, right out of his mouth. “ _Hey!—“_

 

Max smashed the cigarette with his index and thumb, and threw it away into a nearby trashcan. He turned to his childe, “Y’know, David, you’ve really been getting on my nerves, lately. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this tomfoolery from you, but it needs to stop.”

 

“I can think of a number of things that you’ve done...” David mumbled to himself, just not as quietly as he thought.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothin’!” David’s smile was so sardonic and fake, that Max easily caught on.

 

David could tell how much Max wanted to argue with him, but the older vampire managed to stifle his anger back. “No matter...” his voice trailed off, forgetting what he was going to say. “Weren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

 

The blonde pretended to be completely oblivious to what was going on. “Was I?”

 

“David...” he sighed, gripping the ridge of his nose, “Please don’t give me that attitude, right now. I am not in the mood.”

 

“I can tell.”

 

David’s cockiness sometimes drove Max over the edge of madness. The boy was so full of himself, that he never knew what to do. Why couldn’t he just behave like Dwayne did?

 

Dwayne actually caused him the least amount of trouble—that was saying a lot.

 

David always seemed to be on top of the list of his worst behaving sons—Paul sometimes tying with him—David was definitely up there, though. David was his first born— _first turned_ (out of his four boys), he should say. It would make sense that he would be loyal and honoring towards him, but David treated him the exact opposite.

 

“Can you just please get out of my store? You’re disrupting my business,” Max asked.

 

David’s lips curled into an ‘o’ shape. “Business?” he looked around; the video store was completely empty. “There’s no one here!”

 

Max nodded. “Exactly, and whose fault is that?”

 

David was going to retort back with an obvious “yours”, but because he wanted to keep his ass intact, he gritted out a “ _Mine_.”

 

“Good. You’re finally learning,” he said, a rather sarcastic smile appearing over his lips. “About time...only took you about five damn years, maybe longer.”

 

“And you still somehow haven’t learned how to be a decent father.” Those words easily slipped out of David’s mouth, without realizing it. The look on Max’s face only then made him understand what he had muttered out.

 

“Get out,” Max gritted through his teeth.

 

David cooled, hoping that he could win Max back. “Hey, I didn’t mean it.”

 

“ **Get out** ,” Max repeated, louder. “And maybe find Michael and Samuel for me. Maybe then I’ll let this one slide.”

 

David somehow held back the urge to flip his sire off. He managed to surprise himself. “Alright.” He turned on his heels, and walked right on out of there.

 

Once David was out of his vision, Max returned to his place at the counter, muttering “Damn kids,” to himself. They never learn.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael wandered through the night. He passed store after store, nothing truly stuck out to him. The windows of the corner stores were filled to the brim with skanky clothing, just a bunch of overpriced, glittery trash; he had no idea why so many chicks occupied those stores. _Was it ideal to always look like a whore? In today’s society, sure._

 

His short sleeves weren’t cutting it out for him, at the moment. He crossed his arms, trying to endure the ocean breeze, that always made its way onto the boardwalk.

 

It was stupid of him to not bring a jacket out with him, his mother even told him so. He never actually listened to her...even though she was right. It was impossible to remember the day that he started blocking out her words, didn’t want stupid shit entering his ear canals.

 

When was the last time that his mother said something of importance? He wouldn’t know, stopped listening a long time ago.

 

Michael didn’t hate his mother; she’s just kinda boring.

 

He came across a little stand that was selling jackets—leather jackets, to be exact. Bingo. He needed a bit of leather, anyways.

 

That chick that he met last night, apparently liked leather-clad baddies, had some blonde biker asshole practically attached to her by the hip.

 

He could get her if he wanted to. Jesus, just look at him: had the abs, the devilishly good looks (that’s what his mirror told him), a rather cheesy shit-eating grin, curly hair in all the right places—he was practically a god. There was no way that she’d pass him up.

 

Michael grabbed one of the jackets off of the rack, and examined it. He slipped it on, felt nice—damn, it was really nice. He took it off, surely something this nice, would be way too expensive and out of his pocket range. When he found the price tag, he really wasn’t all that surprised: _50 big ones_. Definitely didn’t have enough in his wallet, for that. He sighed and hung the jacket back up on its rack.

 

A flash of blonde hair came into his vision, _familiar blonde hair_. He watched as the occupant of the hair, bought the same exact jacket—the one he wanted. The blonde bought it, with a smirk placed firmly on his lips.

 

Michael didn’t know if this asshole was just trying to make him jealous or something, but it was working. To be frank, when the guy plopped the jacket into his arms, he was confused.

 

“Did ya want this?” He asked Michael.

 

The dude couldn’t be serious. This must have been a prank, or some random act of charity. “You’re kidding,” Michael said, lifting a brow.

 

He smiled back at him. “Nope,” he replied. “Just saw you try to walk away without this beauty,” he said, referring to the black leather that was now drooping over Michael’s forearms. “Seemed like a crime to let that happen. Keep it, don’t have to pay me back or anythin’.”

 

Michael displayed a genuine smile on his lips as he began to pull the price tag off of his new present, and slip it over his arms.

 

He wasn’t one to hide his enthusiasm, so when he practically exploded with a grand “Thanks!”, David almost jumped back in surprise.

 

“Hey, hey—relax a little, just tryna be nice.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

It was funny how fast Michael could fill a conversation with awkwardness

 

The blonde just shrugged it off, rubbing the black of his neck, “It’s fine, dude.” He suddenly stuck a hand out to him, “The name’s David.”

 

“Michael.”

 

David mentally scored a goal in his mind: this was the kid that Max was talking about. Good thing too, he could have almost blown fifty bucks on some complete stranger—glad he didn’t.

 

“Michael...” his voice trailed off, trying to pick up a bit of a conversation starter. He examined the brunette’s features from the toes up. “don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here.”

 

Michael chucked out a nod. “Yeah—just moved here yesterday, actually.”

 

“From where?”

 

“Arizona. Phoenix, Arizona,” Michael admitted to him.

 

“ _Really...?_ ” David asked, rather uninterested.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Hmm,” the blonde hummed, taking a cigarette out of his front pocket, and lighting it. Putting the brand new cigarette into his mouth, he said, “Arizona sounds like a shitty place to live, probably not as bad as it is here, though. Why’d you come here?”

 

“Parents divorced. Mom got custody, and drove my ass out here to live with my grandfather.”

 

“Damn. Dad must be an ass, having your mom move an entire state away from him, huh?” David asked.

 

“Yeah...” Michael muttered, breaking into an uncomfortable silence. He didn’t like to talk about his father, wincing at the thought of him.

 

_You’re gonna be a good little boy for me, and not tell Mom, right?_

**_Right?_ **

_Yes, Dad._

 

All he could remember was his dad pushing and shoving him against the wall with an upmost delight. He’d stay quiet about it; if he ever told his mother, there would be hell to pay.

 

But his mother did eventually find out, not from him, but from his younger brother. She didn’t really seem surprised about it at all, noting that she had the same bruises on her own skin.

 

Her relationship with his father always seemed quite pleasant, even through closed doors, but at night she was gifted the same treatment from him that both of the Emerson brothers were receiving. It was hard to tell that the two had issues; his mother always smiled so damn sweetly.

 

Michael didn’t know why Lucy never told the court about the abuse cases. Maybe she didn’t want to see her ex-husband in prison, probably because she knew that when he eventually got out, he’d immediately go after her as payback.

 

 _The Murder Capital of_ _the World_ definitely wasn’t one of the best places to be, but it was a hell of a lot better than with his father. Compared to him, Santa Carla, California was an absolute dream, and that was saying a lot.

 

Michael didn’t realize how long he had been in this dazed state of remembrance, but it must of been awhile because David was waving a hand in his face. “You all there, Michael?”

 

With a blink and a nod, Michael replied, “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright.”

 

David chuckled. “For a second there, I thought that your brain packed itself up and went back to Phoenix.”

 

Michael shook his head. “Naw, I’m fine. Just kinda out of it.”

 

David reached into his pocket and pulled out his box of cigs, and stuck one out, offering it to the curly haired brunette.

 

Michael hesitated; his mom was trying to get him to quit. Maybe another day. With shrug, he muttered out “what the hell,” and took the cigarette out of the blonde’s fingers. He placed it between his lips, and David flicked open his lighter.

 

Setting the cig ablaze, the blonde said, “Really calms the nerves, don’t it?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Michael mumbled, puffing out a whiff of smoke.

 

The two of them smoked for a while in a pleasant silence. This gave Michael a bit of time to think. _Why was he even talking to this guy?_

 

Last night, he hated the dude’s guts; David was the only reason why he didn’t have his prize of a girl swooning over him. Now he was just taking a cigarette break with him. Sure, the dude went out of his way to buy him an expensive new piece of leather, but was that enough to become best friends with the guy?

 

Michael really didn’t know.

 

The whole situation that he was in was weird.

 

Very weird.

 

He wondered if he should speak up about that chick, tell him how he really felt about her.

 

_Naw. Bad idea._

_Really bad idea._

 

Just from outward appearances, Michael knew that he shouldn’t get on David’s bad side. He was pretty sure that David was the type of guy to pull a knife out over a bad joke. The blonde probably did have a knife on him. _Somewhere_.

 

“Y’know,” David spoke up, grinding the cigarette in between his teeth, “my dad is kind of an asshole, too.”

 

To be honest, Michael wasn’t surprised. David had ‘daddy issues’ written all over him: punk kid dressed in black, rode a kickass bike—hell, he was in a gang. The dude’s old man messed up somewhere.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah—he’s a total dicknose. Guy thinks that he can control my every move. Makes me do _every-fucking-thing_. Won’t give me a damn break,” David complained. “Gag me with a fucking spoon.”

 

David went from calm to batshit irritated in a matter of seconds. _Damn._

 

Michael shrugged. “He doesn’t sound as bad as my dad.”

 

“You don’t know the worst of it,” David muttered.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucy ran a nervous finger through her hair, legs fidgeting like crazy. She almost wanted to puke, but that wouldn’t be very ladylike.

 

Max rang her a surprise phone call, and asked if she wanted to go out on a date. During the entire phone conversation, her heart fluttered; she felt like she was back in high school, like she was being asked to the dance by an awkward teenage boy.

 

The last date that she went on was with her ex-husband, and that was years ago. Nate never really liked leaving the house, so getting out was always a treat for her.

 

She accepted the proposal because...when would she get another chance like this? She was almost forty; she was close to being out of casual dating range. Lucy decided to do it for the hell of it. _Why not?_

 

As she was dolling herself up in the bathroom, her son found out where she was going. He said that it was silly to be going out on a date at her age. She practically winced when he said: “Mom, you’re too old to date.”

 

 _Thirty-six was definitely not too old to date_.

 

If anything, Max was too old to be dating; he was five years older than her, but forty-one wasn’t old at all. They both still had a few good years left in each other. Lucy was going to use hers to her advantage.

 

Max ended up meeting her at this overly expensive Italian place, a place that she never dreamed of going to because she’d never have the money. A small bowl of minestrone was fifteen dollars. _To hell with that._

 

Examining the menu, she had absolutely no idea what to eat. Everything was so pricey that she just wanted to order a water cup, and leave it like that.

 

“Order whatever you please, Lucy. It’s my treat,” Max said with a smile.

 

A soft “Oh” escaped her. Max worked at a video store; she doubted that he had much money to spend. She didn’t want all of his hard earned cash to be wasted on her.

 

Lucy laid her menu down, and sighed. “That’s really sweet of you, Max, but you don’t have to do that for me—“

 

“I insist,” he interrupted.

 

 _Well, if he insisted_...

 

Giving the menu another look through, shechoked on nothing. 

 

“Are you alright?” Her face turned pink at his sudden concern for her.

 

“Yes—yes, I’m quite fine,” she admitted, completely embarrassed. “It’s just so expensive here.”

 

“That doesn’t bother me at all, Lucy. A first date should always be made out to impress. I want to treat you to the best of my ability.” Another smile.

 

His smile created butterflies in her stomach. _God, I might actually puke_. He was just so nice, too nice. He was nothing at all like Nate.

 

Nate was a star football player back in high school, and she was a member of the cheer squad. It didn’t really surprise her when he asked her to prom.

 

Prom night 1969 was a total drag, the only high point of it all was when he snuck her off to the backseat of his 1967 Lincoln Continental. They were forced into marriage by her mother when she realized that Lucy was pregnant with Michael.

 

 _Yep,_ Michael was a prom night baby.

 

If it wasn’t for Michael, then Nate probably would have ditched her after the big night.

 

She was too in love to believe her own father when he said that her marriage would end up as a flop.

 

When Sam came around, she finally pulled her head out of the clouds. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone behindclosed doors, but Nate was extremely abusive.

 

She didn’t fully blame him for the black eyes, she’d blame the alcohol. He wasn’t actually around very much for her children; he was in the local bar more than in his own house.

 

When Max ordered a bottle of wine, it saddened her (she wouldn’t let Max see her upset, though). Alcohol just reminded her so much of him.

 

She decided on pasta bolognese (which was a staggering thirty-five dollars). Lucy hoped that Max wouldn’t have a heart attack once he saw the bill.

 

Every once and awhile, she’d get caught in his eyes. She didn’t mean to stare, but with a dashing face like his, it was a battle not to. Maybe it was her third glass of red wine that was talking, but Max made wearing glasses look devilishly handsome. Hmm, perhaps it is the wine...

 

“Lucy,” Max began, said person’s head perking up, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than you.”

 

 _Oh dear god_. She hit the jackpot.

 

He was a better smooth talker than her ex.

 

A dopey, wine laced smile made its presence upon her cheeks. “Aw...Max.” She was too drunk already for this. “Thank you.”

 

 _Maybe being a divorcée isn't so bad_.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael and David walked around the boardwalk, and smoked for hours, having only the two of them to keep each other company. There wasn’t a boring moment between them, even long drags of silence were broken by one of them cracking out a bit of laughter, out of awkwardness.

 

David introduced him to the highlights of the place, and managed to keep the both of them entertained for a good while.

 

One of David’s new favorite sources of entertainment was seeing how many bimbettes could catcall Michael in a single hour. He chuckled every time he caught some bitch lusting over the other’s ass.

 

The chicks around here weren’t used to a guy like Michael. _The guys weren’t either_...

 

At first, Michael was overjoyed with all the attention that he was receiving, but now he was kind of getting sick of it. He wasn’t even meeting the eyes of the chicks that were calling him “Hot stuff”, anymore.

 

It was funny to David how quickly Michael got over the chicks swooning over his every move. It’s only been about three hours, and Michael was already bored and annoyed out of his mind.

 

“Twenty-three,” Michael heard the blonde mutter around his third cigarette of the night.

 

Michael cocked his head to the left, and saw a rather slim and slender girl completely red in the face, staring right at him. He forced out a smirk towards her and that seemed to make her beam even brighter than before; he was fairly sure that he got a squeal out of the chick. Once she was out of his vision, he turned back to David and groaned.

 

“You’ve really been keeping track of how many chicks want to get in my pants?” Michael asked, receiving a hoarse chuckle out of David, who almost choked on the smoke that blew through his lungs.

 

“It’s fun,” David simply said.

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fun for you.”

 

David laughed once more.“Well, it’s not my fault that everyone in this shitty ass city is a slut.”

 

“Including your girlfriend?” _Fuck, didn’t mean to say that_. _He’s gonna fucking kill me._

 

Michael was expecting a punch to the face, but that never happened; David knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “What?”

 

“What do you mean ‘what’? That girl that was on the back of your bike.”

 

“Oh.” A sudden wave of realization hit the blonde. “If you’re talking about Star, we’re not dating.”

 

 _What?_ “You’re not?”

 

“Naw. If anything, she’s more of a sister to me,” David said, lazily.

 

Michael was now sporting the biggest grin that David’s seen in his entire life, frankly making him uncomfortable at the sight. “So she’s free?”

 

David just gave a slight nod. “By all means, fuck her. I don’t give a shit.”

 

 

 


	2. I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants to buy a few comics.  
> Lucy wants to spend time with her son.  
> Michael wants to see Star’s tits, and David’s just kind of bored.
> 
>  
> 
> I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth, a song by Fall Out Boy

Riding on the back of Michael’s bike was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, but mostly terrifying. He drove so damn recklessly that Sam actually thought he was trying to kill the both of them.

 

Every time that he told his brother to slow the fuck down, it just encouraged him to speed up. _Mike is such an asshole_. He didn’t know who the hell let him have a license in the first place.

 

Lucy didn’t even want Sam to get his permit yet, because she didn’t want another Emerson spawn tearing through the road. Based on Michael’s driving alone, he didn’t blame her.

 

Michael liked to fuck around with him. Picking on his little brother was always the highlight of his day. The kid was a screamer, which made it a hell of a lot better.

 

Sam was never really in any harm at all (Lucy would kill him if he hurt his little brother _so..._ ), had no reason to overreact.

 

Once the motorbike came to a complete stop in the parking lot, Sam was shaking from head to toe, clinging to his brother’s back.

 

“You’re such a little baby,” Michael told his brother.

 

Sam thumped Michael on the back of the head, then proceeded to swing his leg over and off of the bike, shooting his brother the bird. “Get bent, asshole.”

 

Michael’s eyes widened in shock, grabbing his little brother by the arm. “I’m the asshole? I drove your ass all the way out here just so you can look at your stupid fucking comics.”

 

“Fuck off.” Sam pulled his arm back from his brother’s hold.

 

“I’m not giving you rides anymore, if you’re gonna act like this.”

 

Sam scoffed. Their mom would never let Michael get away with that. “Well, if you wouldn’t drive like a maniac, I’d be nicer.”

 

“ _Hey_ —my bike, my speed.”

 

“You’re gonna get pulled over with that attitude,” Sam said.

 

Defeated, Michael groaned: “Just go buy your damn comics so I can take you home.”

 

Sam walked away with a smirk.  _Won that round._

 

He slugged around the parking lot until he made it to the boardwalk. The breezy ocean air sent chills down his spine.

 

It was much too cold just to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

 

(If his mom hadn’t went to work so early, then she probably would have nagged him around about how “You can’t wear that. You’ll catch a cold, Mister!”)

 

It was only about ten in the morning, so not too many bodies occupied the boardwalk. Signs of life were scarce.

 

Sam dragged his brother out of bed this morning, because he really really wanted to go check out the comic book store. Last night, he only got a glimpse of the true wonders of that store, that wasn’t enough to keep a kid like him satisfied.

 

Maybe he did deserve to be treated like shit by his brother. He’d be pissed off if Michael pulled him out of his dreams to go and check girls out, maybe not that pissed off because—y’know— _tits._ Comic books weren’t hot blondes, so Mike was probably bored out of his mind, waiting for his slow ass to get back to the parking lot, so they could hightail it out of there.

 

He dragged his feet along the wooden planks beneath him. He actually had to watch where he was going because there were a lot of holes and cracks in the wood. One wrong step and he could end up falling right through the boardwalk, and into the depths below him.

 

After his “dangerous” trek through the wooden nightmare, a grin the size of San Francisco morphed onto his face: the wide opened doors of the comic book store. _Bingo_. This was the key to unlocking the wonders of Santa Carla, California.

 

He toured through the store like it belonged to him.

 

He was kind of bummed, even though the boardwalk was mostly empty, the comic book store was clearly not. There must have been twenty other bodies, besides his, in there.

 

The atmosphere was warm, cramped, and uncomfortable.

 

_So totally not wicked._

 

Sam mindlessly flipped through comic after comic, but nothing really called out to him. The disappointment of the store not having a Batman #14 still lingered through his virgin mind. His search for the treasured book would continue...

 

There was an unnerving thought swimming in the back of his head, feeling like he was being watched.

 

Lifting his head up, the pair of brothers that he met last night, came into his vision. He looked back down, hoping that they knew that he wasn’t interested in a conversation. Maybe they’d just fuck off and leave him be.

 

He moved away from the boys and off to another section of the store, they followed. _Dammit_.

 

“Notice anything unusual about Santa Carla, yet?” one of them spoke up, eyeing Sam from the other side of the book stand.

 

“No. It’s a pretty cool place...” Sam admitted, “...if you’re a martian.”

 

If he was being truly honest, only aliens would actually find this crime ridden beach town interesting. He was no extraterrestrial. Santa Carla was only surf and sand, not much else. It was cool for what it was, just didn’t grab his attention all too much.

 

“ _Or_ a vampire,” the bandanna wearing, Rambo rip-off, added.

 

Sam stared at the two of them, mouth agape. _They have to be messing around with me_. His surprised shock turned into a sly smirk. “Are you guys sniffin’ old newsprint, or somethin’?”

 

As silly as it sounds, Rambo looked completely and utterly serious. “You really think you know what’s happening around here, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam half-mumbled under his breath, holding back a chuckle.  _These dudes are insane._

 

“Well, I’ll tell you something: you don’t know shit, buddy.”

 

“Yeah,” Alan agreed. “You think that we just work at our comic book store for our folks, huh?”

 

“Actually...I thought it was a bakery,” Sam said, sarcasm practically dripping out of his mouth.

 

The brothers got dangerously close to Sam; Edgarwas right up in his face. He liked his personal space, and this was getting too weird.

 

Feeling Edgar’s breath hot on his face, Sam tried to move back and ease the up the awkwardness between them.

 

Edgar curled up a comic book and nudged it against Sam’s chest. “We’re dedicated to a higher purpose. We’re fighters for truth, justice, and the American Way.”

 

“Alright,” Sam muttered, uninterested.

 

He tried to make a dash to the front of the store, but both boys were right behind him, again, following his every move.

 

“Hey, man—“ Edgar stopped him, shoving a comic into his personal space, “read this.”

 

Sam studied the comic for about a half of a second, shoving it back into Edgar’s arms after realizing what he had been gifted. It was the same stupid vampire comic that they tried forcing on him, the other night.

 

Edgar and Alan were a nutcase that he didn’t want to deal with.

 

“I told you: I don’t like horror comics.” The book was back in his arms again, much to his dismay.

 

Now, Alan was the one up in his face. “Think of it more like a survival manual. There’s our number on the back.” Sam grimaced at the thought of having the Frogs’ number. These two were fucking weird. “And pray that you’ll never need to call us.”

 

“I’ll pray,” Sam started, nodding his head, “that I’ll never need to call you. Yeah.” To hell with that.

 

Sam was surprised that the Frogs let him go after that. As soon as that comic was in his hands, they were out of his sight.

 

He almost didn’t want to go back to their store; he didn’t want to get trapped in another one of their very awkward conversations.

 

_Freaks._

 

He rolled up the comic and placed it in the back of his pants pocket. He kind of hoped that it fell out during the drive back to his grandfather’s house.

 

In practically no time at all, he was back in the parking lot. Michael didn’t seem happy.

 

“I drove all the way out here, for you to leave empty handed?”

 

Sam forced out a fake, awkward smile. “No, I got this,” he said as he reached into his back pocket.

 

Michael took the comic in hand, and rolled his eyes. “Was this thing really worth me driving twenty-five minutes for?”

 

“No...”

 

Michael sighed, not the reaction that Sam was expecting. He just gave his little brother a noogie, saying: “Let’s just go, dickweed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Working for Max was a dream, a dream that any woman in her late 30s would thrive for, a dream that no one would ever want to wake from. The pay wasn’t too bad, hours were fine. Lucy’s job in Arizona was a prison, compared to her new one in California.

 

Her co-worker, Maria, wasn’t as enthusiastic about Max’s Video, as she was. Based on Maria’s actions alone, it seemed like the girl hated Max. How you could hate someone as sweet and as charming as him, Lucy had no idea.

 

Perhaps Max treated her better than Maria. Max wasn’t dating the girl, so maybe Lucy was only receiving ‘special treatment’ from him because she was kinda-sorta-maybe his girlfriend—if you could even call it that.

 

She wanted to call Maria “jealous” of her, but she almost gagged at the idea because the girl was barely Michael’s age, _too terribly young to be having relations with a man Max’s age_. She shuttered, at the thought.

 

When her shift ended at seven o’clock, sharp, she actually had a feeling of disappointment radiating out of her. The video store reminded her of Max, and leaving it, saddened her.

 

At least she was able to go home to see Sam and Michael, and fix them a late dinner. Her boys were probably starving unless they got into her father’s Oreo stash, _again._

 

 _Ugh,_  her dad was the only man she’s seen that cries when the cookies are missing. Breaks the old man’s heart.  _He needs to go on a diet._

 

With an actual smile on her face, Lucy walked in through the backdoor, to the house. She was met with an unusually empty kitchen. _Hmm._

 

Expecting one of her boys to be raiding the pantry in search of food, it was a weird feeling to have everything one hundred percent quiet.

 

It was so unbelievably still in this house that it felt like the rest of her family just packed up their things, and straight up abandoned her. They’d never do that, at least, her father wouldn’t. Dad hated leaving the house.

 

Lucy sat her purse on the kitchen counter, along with her keys, and yawned. Was it too late to make dinner? She was starving, but too tired to put the full effort in to cook.

 

She was the backbone of this family. If she didn’t cook and clean, do laundry....then no one would.

 

Michael was seventeen, almost eighteen. It’d be nice if he actually helped her around the house, either that or get a job of some sort, but not everyone got their wishes granted.

 

Searching for her cooking apron, Michael slipped right by her, and almost out the door. She caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. _Almost, Buster._

 

She frowned. Where was her little boy that always helped her around the house? Her little boy that always dressed appropriately and went to bed early? Her little boy that, no matter what time of day it was, always had a smile on his face.

 

He was long gone. Michael left that boy back in Phoenix.

 

The teen that came with her to Santa Carla though, wasn’t her son. He was some imposter—tall, moody, and arrogant. It was a shame.

 

She couldn’t deny it anymore. Michael was turning into a splitting image of his father, almost an exact replica of Nate.

 

Whenever Michael played too rough with Sam, it was hard not to think that he might hurt him. That the bruises on Sam’s body weren’t from having too much fun.

 

Nate hurt that little boy too hard, knocked the sweetness right out of Michael.

 

Nate took her little boy away from her. Replaced him with himself.

 

“Michael, it’s late. What are you doing?”

 

The teen groaned, bike keys dangling in his hand, trying to avoid his mother’s eyes. “I just wanted to go out for a bit, take a little drive. I won’t be long.”

 

 _I won’t be long_. She fell for that pleading voice one too many times.

 

Lucy took her son’s appearance in: hair combed, stunk of men’s body spray, neck to waist covered in black leather. Michael was definitely not just going out for a little drive. He was dressed to impress somebody. Hopefully he doesn’t mess up and get that “somebody” pregnant. She didn’t need a repeat of prom night.

 

“I’ve been at work all day long, Michael. Can’t I spend a little time with my boys?” Lucy knew that she wasn’t inherently close to winning this battle with her son, but it never hurt to knock a bit of sense into the boy.

 

She opened her arms up, initiating a hug. Michael groaned, wrapping his arms around his mother. Lucy smiled. _He always falls for that._

 

“Fine...” Michael couldn’t diminish the grin that found its way onto his face.

 

_There’s the Michael that I know._

 

She released Michael from her embrace, and pulled him across the kitchen, to the sink.

 

Michael felt uneasy, eyes focusing on a hideous pile of dirty dishes. He turned back to his mother, displeased, the expression on his face screaming: “ _There’s no way in hell that I’m doing that_ ”.

 

Lucy’s hands found their way onto her hips. “Now, you don’t expect me to clean all these dishes and make dinner, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good,” she said with a smile, ruffling her hand through her son’s curls.

 

Lucy bent down, opening one of the kitchen cabinets, and retrieved a long, slender pan.

 

“Whatcha going to make?” Michael asked, voice somewhat muffled from having his back turned, facing the hot water that was blasting out of the sink faucet.

 

“Meatloaf...?” Lucy answered, voice trailing, pondering on the idea.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

It really didn’t. Meatloaf was an Emerson family staple. Michael’s had it way too many times, but his mother was in such a good mood that he decided not to bicker.

 

“Y’know, school’s starting up in a few weeks,” Lucy began, “Are you ready?”

 

Michael knew that topic would come into play at some point. “I don’t know if I’m going back to school.”

 

He was expecting his mother to scream at him, but she didn’t. She chuckled, like it was a joke. “Well, of course you are, sweetie. You’re gonna be a senior this year, can’t give up yet.”

 

Michael wanted to let her know that this was no joke, tell her that he was being completely serious, but he knew that he’d be in heaps of trouble if he did. “I guess so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even after his mother telling him countless times that he couldn’t leave the house tonight, Michael already found himself halfway towards the Santa Carla boardwalk. He only managed to escape his prison of a house while his mother was occupied with making dinner.

 

He knew that once Lucy realized that he was gone, she’d freak, and probably ground him for a week, maybe two. That didn’t scare him though, even while grounded, he’d still be able to find a way to leave.

 

Sam never usually told on him while he was out on his excursions— _hell_ , Grandpa didn’t care one bit about his actions, the only thing that the old hag cared about was stuffing dead animals with fluff.

He’d be fine.

 

Other than his mother’s voice nagging him in the back of his head, nothing much else really bothered him. He was too focused on his main objective: finding Star.

 

When David broke him the news that Star was freer than America herself, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wanted her so badly, and now he had absolutely nothing standing in his way.

 

Thanks to David, the move to this shitty town got about ten times better.

 

Instead of going to the parking lot again, he parked his bike out by a few others on the outskirts of the boardwalk. It was a lot more practical than having to walk all the way across the beach to make it to his destination.

 

Would Star even be out there tonight? He had no clue. He might have shown up for no reason at all. Michael really hoped that wasn’t the case.

 

After awhile of just mindlessly moping around the boardwalk, he saw David and his boys all scattered around their motorcycles.

 

Their eyes met, a smirk.

 

If David was around, then Star must be close by.

 

The blonde was standing besides him, before he had the chance to say his name. A cigarette was hanging out of his mouth.  _This dude smokes a lot_. Was it his goal to get lung cancer before he was 20?

 

“You lookin’ for something, Michael?” David inquired, smirk still fresh on his lips.

 

“Uh—yeah....” Michael began, scratching the back of his neck, “y’know where Star is?”

 

“She’s ‘round.” That helps. David placed an arm around his shoulder. “She’s not too far. You’ll find her.”

 

“Thanks...” Michael said, awkwardly.

 

He almost flinched when he felt the blonde’s breath hovering over his neck. “Just lettin’ you know: she’s really not that good,” David whispered into his ear. “You’ll be disappointed.”

 

That smirk never died.

 

The laughter never did, either.

 

* * *

 

 

The comic book that the Frogs gave Sam was definitely something, a weird and creepy kind of something. There wasn’t even a story involved, it was basically a survival manual, just like Alan said.

 

The pages were covered in ridiculously long ass paragraphs with oddly specific details, like: “Did you know that vampires have super long fingernails?” or “Vampires have really bad breath.”

 

Wasn’t a horror comic for nothing. This shit was scary. Just like how the information was grand with its detail, so were the illustrations.

 

Sometimes he had to slam the book shut so he could have time to contain his fear (reading it in the dark with a flashlight didn’t help, either).

 

He would either be taking a break from _Vampires Everywhere!_ because it was making him shake in his boots, or gag in disgust. Blood and guts littered the pages in graphic detail. He bet that the illustrator for this comic had nightmares for weeks. Maybe months.

 

Skipping to the end of the book, he found out that the comic was a whopping seventy-three pages long. What the hell? He wasn’t even sure if he had the stomach to make it through the entire thing.

 

As Sam pressed further on through the comic, he was beginning to wonder if vampires were actually real.

 

The person that wrote the book put so much detail into it, almost like the guy sat down and had a conversation with an actual bloodsucker. Perhaps the writer just pulled all the information out of his ass, but also....naw, he was getting to deep into this.

 

Vampires weren’t real. If vampires were real, then Santa Claus was also real. Eight-year-old him would be pleased if that was the case.

He didn’t want to admit it, but when he heard a knock on his door, he was relieved. That meant that he actually had a solid reason for closing the comic.

 

Sam wasn’t even able to give the person permission to open his door, before Grandpa came bursting through (maybe not bursting through the door, he just kind of caught him off guard).

 

 _Ugh_ , his grandfather was holding one of his stuffed creations.  _Gross._

 

 _Jesus, this this is animated._ It looked like the poor creature died only a few minutes ago. If the thing started kicking again, he wouldn’t be surprised.

 

He was pretty sure that he felt his heart skip a beat when the taxidermy was suddenly shoved into his arms. He was now unfortunately face to face with a rabid looking raccoon.

 

“He’s a beauty, ain’t he?” Grandpa asked him.

 

Not wanting to hurt the old man’s feelings, he grimaced and held back the urge to vomit all over the livid thing. “Yeah, Grandpa. He’s really...nice.”

 

Sam accidentally got a whiff of the deceased animal.  _Jesus Christ, it stinks._ He wasn’t going to admit that out loud, though.

 

Sam’s grandfather sat down on the edge of his bed, smiling triumphantly at his new little creation. “Yeah, I found this little guy on the side of the road, while comin’ back from the Widow Johnson’s house,” Grandpa said. “Poor thing musta been hit by a car. Surprised that I found him all in one piece.”

 

“That’s cool, Grandpa.” Sam got up and placed the raccoon on the leftmost side of his dresser, which was all the way across the room. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the thing.

 

When he came back to his bed, he saw his grandfather holding up his _Vampires Everywhere!_ comic, intently focusing on one of the pages.

 

“What’s this?” Grandpa questioned, not taking his eyes off the book in hand. “ _‘Vampires Everywhere!’_ , eh?” he said, reading the title on the front page of the comic.

 

“Oh, that’s just some dumb comic book that these two weirdos gave me.”

 

Flipping through a few of the pages, he shook his head in a disapproving manner. “‘Garlic burns them’? I don’t know where on earth they got their information from...”

 

What? “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know where they got their information from’?”

 

Grandma met his eyes in surprise. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Not giving Sam any time to answer, he blurted out: “Just forget that I said anything, alright?”

 

“What?—“

 

Before Sam could ask what the hell was going on, his grandfather was already standing in his doorframe. “Erm—Just came up here to tell you that Lucy’s done making dinner.” And that was it, he was gone.

 

Something definitely was up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michael was beginning to think that David lied about Star being on the boardwalk, tonight. He’d been searching for almost an hour now, to no avail.

 

Michael groaned. David must have set him up. He probably also lied about her being single; she was probably with the blonde, now, laughing about how gullible he was.

 

_Dammit._

 

There was no point of being on the boardwalk anymore, might as well just go back home before his mom gets too pissed off.

 

On his way back to his bike, he was met with am ear piercing stand. He debated with himself on whether he should pierce his ear or not, but the victor was eventually the little voice in his head that told him that Lucy would probably kill him if he came home with a hole in his ear.

 

Before the final decision came into play, she whispered in his ear, “It’s a rip-off.” Her words disappeared along with her into the crowd, it was a game of tag for Michael.

 

He managed to catch up with her again. “Hi,” he said, his smile shining brightly in the night air.

 

“If you want your ear pierced, I’ll do it.” Star didn’t even look at him while she uttered those words. She just played with her brunette locks.

 

Michael shrugged. “I was thinking ‘bout it. I’m not sure, though.”

 

She finally did meet his eyes. “I think you’d look nice with your ear pierced.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhmm,” she hummed.

 

He walked along side her, lustfully listening to her words. There was something about her that separated her from other girls, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the way that she just walked around without a care in the world.

 

_God, she’s perfect._

 

“So, I guess you’re new around here, huh?” Star asked him.

 

“Sort of,” he began, “used to come here during summers when I was a kid, but now we’re here on a more permanent basis.”

 

“Cool.”

 

It felt like it was practically impossible to stop smiling while around Star, to Michael. Every little thing that she said would lighten up his soul.

 

It was awfully weird that she was single. If he was David, he’d never let her go. He’d marry her, here and right now, if she asked him to. He’d do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t care to hesitate.

 

She could rock wearing a long ass frilly skirt, not many girls could do that. Usually, they’d look like huge frumpy messes, but not her. She was perfect, so perfect.

 

Star could probably tell him anything, and he’d agree with her. He was so love drunk that words were meaningless. If he tried to, he most likely wouldn’t even be able to form a full sentence.

 

“Y’know what?” Michael asked.

 

“What?”

 

“That first night I saw you, I thought you and David were together.” Somehow his brain pushed out an intelligible sentence, after a few moments of silence. “As a couple.”

 

“We used to be, not anymore.”

 

That peaked his interest. “What happened?”

 

She grew quiet, finally saying, “I don’t like to talk about it.”

 

Oh. Must have been some bad experience. He didn’t know who on earth would want to treat someone as sweet and gentle as her like a sack of shit. He’d never hurt her. He knew that much.

 

Michael felt like something was missing. Remembering that little kid that was by her side last night, he asked: “Where’s your little brother?”

 

The look on her face told him that she was almost offended by that question.

 

“He’s not my little brother,” she growled.

 

 _Damn._  “Oh.”

 

Was she angry at him? He didn’t mean to make her upset, but he was unconsciously doing it anyways.

 

This night kept getting increasingly awkward for Michael and Star. Small talk would usually leave the two quiet. Their conversation had way too many uncomfortable pauses in between.

 

_Great._

 

It was getting late, he was growing rather hungry. He missed dinner, so that wasn’t helping his case, any less.

 

“Wanna get something to eat?” The question was so sudden that he was afraid that she wouldn’t answer.

 

“Okay.”

 

As the two of them approached his bike, he could see David from a distance, surrounded by his boys. That smirk was still there.

 

* * *

 

 

David watched as the two disappeared from his vision, the sound of Michael’s motorbike roaring through the air. He didn’t know why he let them get away.

 

Star hasn’t fed off of him in awhile, and being around a hungry halfling was like standing on thin ice, very thin fuckin’ ice.He sighed. _Maybe it is a good idea to chase after them._

 

“Damn, Mikey’s gettin’ laid, tonight,” Paul said, staring off into the distance of the night. Marko smiled slyly at him, biting into the thumb of his glove to prevent him from grinning like a total idiot.

 

“If she hurts him, she’s fuckin’ dead,” the blonde warned.

 

“That was so cliché, David,” Marko chuckled, “‘oh, I’ll kill her’. Just because we’re vampires doesn’t mean that we have to say shit like that.”

 

Paul leaned up against Marko, “Ah, Davey would do it though.” He turned to look at the mullet-sporting vampire, “Wouldn’t ya, Davey?”

 

David just rolled his eyes at Paul’s nickname for him. He hated being called that. “Definitely.”

 

“The only person that would be doing any killing would be Max, ‘cause he’d murder your ass if you actually killed Star. He doesn’t want to ruin his ‘perfect family’,” Marko used his fingers to quote the air, while talking about Max’s idea of a seemingly “perfect” family.

 

A family of vampires was anything but perfect.

 

“Lucy would never agree to be one of us if one of her kids was dead,” Paul added. “Can’t let Mikey bite it.”

 

David sighed. “I know. I just don’t even know what Max sees in her, just seems like another meal to me.”

 

Lucy sounded nice and all, but did Max really need a wife? The guy had gone thousands of years without one, getting a lady now, seemed like a waste of Max’s time.

 

Marko shrugged. “I dunno. If you were Max, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there for you? He’s been alone for awhile, kinda feel bad for the old bastard.” He peered down at his shoes. “Eternity’s a long time to be without someone. Long, sad, and lonely.”

 

“Yeah,” Paul agreed with the shorter male.

 

Marko’s mouth suddenly folded into a smirk. “Definitely got to keep him alive, because didn’t you wanna sleep with Michael? Kinda hard to fuck around with him when he’s dead, David,” He joked around.

 

David sneered at the younger vampire, then his eyes flicked over towards Paul. “I dunno, but Paul seems to make sleepin’ with dead chicks work.”

 

Paul took immediate offense to that, “Hey!—it’s not my fault that they die on me before I finish. Chicks are just too fragile for me.”

 

Marko laughed, and wrapped an arm around the other male’s neck. “That’s what I’m here for, right?” Marko asked. Paul just grinned, giving him a peck on the cheek.

 

“Ladies,” David interrupted the two giggling idiots, “you have an audience.”

 

Paul and Marko turned their heads in unison.

 

“Fucking fags.” Nothing special, just a few homophobic surfer Nazis, watching the two of them from a safe distance.

 

Paul was still all smiles. “Feelin’ kinda hungry now,Marko. How about you?”

 

“Starving.”

 

David rolled his eyes as the two blondes got lost in the crowds. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about feeding them, tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael was clueless about the best hotspots for food in Santa Carla, so he aimlessly drove around the boardwalk until he found something. Star suggested a cool little Chinese restaurant; he was tired and hungry enough to go along with that idea.

 

It was just a basic, small fast food place. Kinda smelt like piss inside.

 

The entire time that they ate, Star was silent. She wouldn’t even look at him.

 

Maybe he did something that she didn’t approve of. Something she didn’t like.

 

He felt awkward, sitting in their little quant booth, watching her anxiously fidget around in her seat.

 

Was she okay?

 

“Star, what’s wrong?” he curiously asked her.

 

She didn’t care to answer him. It was almost like she couldn’t hear him, like she was deaf.

 

He didn’t like being ignored, but he didn’t want to call her out on it and accidentally upset her.

 

Star fiddled her fingers around together, no longer eating. She still had a lot left on her plate. Perhaps she wasn’t hungry at all; to think of it, he didn’t ask if she was in the first place.

 

Maybe she just went along with him to be nice, not because she was dying to eat something.

 

Something was bothering her, if that wasn’t obvious enough. He wanted to know what was wrong, but she just wouldn’t tell him. There might actually be nothing bad going on, maybe she acted like this on the norm.

 

In the time that it took to blink, her hands urgently covered her mouth, pupils enlarging over half oftheir original size. Was she going to be sick?

 

“I’ve gotta go,” Star blurted out, hands muffling her speech. “I’m sorry, maybe we can do this again, later.”

 

“Star!—“

 

She wouldn’t look back at him. She picked up her things, and left.

 

Oh, he fucked up. Fucked up big time.

 

Michael quickly paid for their meals, and tried to catch up to her outside. Having no idea where she ran off to, he kept turning corners, searching everywhere for her.

 

Maybe she didn’t want be found. Perhaps their date was so bad that she had to excuse herself from it, entirely. Maybe it was a family emergency...?

 

Maybe he was just an asshole, an asshole that couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and kicked the nearest wall, kicked the shit out of it.

Michael was upset, beyond repair. Nothing could fix this night.

 

He knew that it was too good to be true. A gorgeous girl, sweet and kind, with no significant other, lets him take her out on a date?

 

  _Should’ve know that it was a failure from the start..._

 

Michael began to repeatedly bonk his forehead against the wall that he was leaning against.

 

  _Stupid, stupid, **stupid.**_

 

Maybe if he hit himself enough, he’d forget that this tragedy of a night ever happened.

 

“Hey...”

 

Michael thought he had a heart attack.

 

There she was, running a nervous hand through her brunette curls, looking uncertain of herself. He had to admit, she seemed a hell of a lot better, calmer.

 

“Star—shit, I’m sorry.” Michael began to mindlessly apologize to her, not even really knowing what was exactly coming out of his mouth. He wanted to make up for whatever he did to her. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean whatever—“

 

She shushed him. “It’s alright, Michael. You did nothing wrong. It was all my fault.”

 

He kept blaming himself while he pulled Star into a hug, an awkward one at that. He expected the embrace to be short and sweet, but she didn’t let go. She held onto him like her life depended on it, burying her face into his shoulder.

 

Michael gave her a little tap on the back, shook her, telling her to let go, but she wouldn’t budge.

 

Once he managed to get her attention, she looked like a rabid animal, like she was about to start foaming at the mouth any second. Her eyes were a brilliant gold, pupils turning into fine slits.

 

Razor sharp teeth.

 

No wonder why she wasn’t eating at the Chinese place. He was the food, and she was having him for takeout.

 

Shouting her name didn’t do anything, all that she could hear was the blood pumping in his throat. He could have been her own mother, her own flesh and blood, and still wouldn’t have let him go.

 

He tried to tear himself from her hold on him, to no avail. She rammed herself into his body, slamming him against the wall behind them, using a force practically unimaginable.

 

She was a barricade that was sealed shut; Star wouldn’t let anyone make it past her.

 

It would have been nice if David warned him that his ex was a bloodthirsty animal, before taking her out on this date. Worst date ever. _My date is going to kill me. That sounds like a bad movie title._

 

“Star...please.” Fuck, he was actually crying.

 

He should have never trusted a pretty girl. The better that they look, the more dangerous they were. Dangerously beautiful.

 

Teeth. God, they actually felt like knives. She sliced his skin open, feeling his own blood begin to pour out of the fresh wound, and onto his skin.

 

Everything stung. It felt like he was on fire and submerged in ice water, at the same time. It was quite the experience.

 

He’s never donated blood before, so the concept of so much blood leaving his body, felt really odd to him. Michael was sure that he’s never lost this much blood in his life. This was so very foreign to him.

 

Everything was so red...

 

Crimson painted both of their bodies. If Star was an artist, this would be quite the masterpiece. “Bloodshed in the California Alleyway,” it would be called. A masterpiece. Brilliant. Would be praised by millions and millions of bloodsuckers.

 

He was beginning to grow stupendously drowsy. It was an effort to keep his eyes open. While the image blurred out, he thought he saw a glimpse of stark blonde hair appear before him.

 

The smirk was gone.


	3. Have a Drink on me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David’s ballistic.  
> Max is an annoyed father.  
> Laddie’s sad.  
> And Michael’s just kinda out of it.
> 
>  
> 
> Have A Drink On Me, a song by AC/DC

He left her alone with Michael for an hour. A fucking hour! He thought maybe she would be fine. Maybe she wouldn’t lash out at anyone. It was a definite maybe because she fucking turned Michael into food.

 

David told her to leave Michael alone. Told her that he’d be the one to turn him, take care of him. She didn’t listen. She never did.

 

She knew that Max wanted to keep the boy alive, add him to their ‘family’. Max didn’t want any of Michael’s blood spilt, but she,  _oh she had to go and fuck all of us over._

 

  _Fucking bitch._

 

If anything, it was Max’s fault that this whole shit show happened. He wanted Star to be one of them. David did want anything to do with her. She was fun to have around while human, but as a vampire—she was a disgrace to the immortal name.

 

“I don’t want to kill, David. I just couldn’t do that,” she once said to him. He offered her many meals, things to sustain her—she turned them all down. This was the thanks that he got. He got a bloody massacre just because she didn’t want to turn yet.

 

She couldn’t control herself anymore. _She’s weak._ And when Michael was right out there in front of her, vulnerable and confused, she just couldn’t help herself.

 

She snapped. She snapped in front of the wrong person, the very fucking wrong person.

 

Max always loved turning the weaker ones. Almost every childe that he created, ended up getting killed, or offing themselves.

 

Max was over a thousand years old. David was practically a fetus compared to him. His sire told him that he turned hundreds and hundreds of people before him. None of them made it.  _That’s why you don’t waste your blood on someone who can’t handle it._

 

David’s boys and him were the only few success cases, everyone else perished.

 

Why Max turned so many, David didn’t have the slightest idea. Maybe he knew that they were all destined to fail.

 

Max should have just stopped at Marko. Everyone else was pathetic.

 

David had been out on the beach, so very far from the both of them. He was aware of what had happened, the second that it occurred. He knew Michael’s blood had been spilled, even if he was miles and miles away, he would still know that Michael was in trouble.

 

His boys were aware too, so was the kid. Dwayne had to calm the pitiful child down, and take him back to the hotel. The boy looked up to Star, David knew that much, and when he knew what she did, it tore him apart.

 

Laddie was a mess of tears, poor kid didn’t deserve to be put in that position. Max should have let him enjoy childhood, not send him spiraling down into the hell that was vampirism—he just wasn’t ready for that.

 

Laddie would probably never look at Star the same way again. David felt sorry for the little dude, no one his age deserved this.

 

Laddie was just too young, way too young.

 

David was kicking himself over when he found them.

 

Star was huddled over Michael in a back alley, blood smeared all over her (once) white tank top. It was a shame; Star didn’t have many clothes. Once she came out of her blood high, she’d have a fit over her crimson soaked top.

 

From the look of it, she drained so much of Michael’s fluids that he passed out from blood loss, wasn’t a good sign. Michael might not make it.

 

“Star...” He kneeled down next to her. Maybe there’d be a chance that she would snap herself out of her actions, make things easier for him. But alas, she kept drinking.

 

Pity.

 

He gave her one chance. She blew it.

 

“ **Star!** ” David repeated, voice echoing through the empty alleyway, shaking the girl vigorously. “ **Get the fuck off of him!** ”

 

Due to the amount of force that was struck onto her, she choked on Michael’s blood, removing her teeth from his flesh, coughing and sputtering.

 

He pushed her out of his way, and held the dying boy close.

 

Star’s reaction wasn’t a surprise. He knew that she would be too much of a goodie two shoes to make a fight out of it.

 

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

 

She backed herself up against the wall, blubbering out the boy’s name in shock. Tears pooled out of her eyes, melting onto her blood smeared cheeks.   _Immediate regret._ He almost smiled.

 

Not leaving the boy’s side, he turned to her. “Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

 

She was more than aware. The only conceivable sentences the he could get out of her were: “I’m so sorry, Michael,” and “I’m really sorry.” Everything else was just a mush of tear stricken gibberish.

 

He was mad with trauma induced laughter. “Max is going to kill me,” David said to her. “He’s going to kill the both of us!” His words were mostly broken attempts at trying to calm himself down.

 

How was it possible to calm down?

 

Max would find out about this sooner or later, if he wasn’t already aware. When he did, _fuck_ , Max most likely wouldn’t let either of them out with their lives.

 

Screaming at Star only made matters worse. She was currently curled into a ball of her own delirium. He wasn’t in the mood to babysit.

 

 _”Paul,”_ he called out in his mind. _“Come get her. She isn’t helping me.”_

 

Paul wasn’t too far away, and with Star out of the picture, David could actually focus on what the hell he was supposed to do.

 

The other teen arrived in no time at all. Paul paused, noticing how fucked they all were, now. The image before him was almost too traumatic to bear, even as a vampire.  _Carnage at its best._

 

  _“We’re in deep shit, aren’t we?”_ Paul mentally asked the other blonde, with a forced laugh, looking about his surroundings.

 

David chuckled, halfheartedly. “Get ready to start digging your own grave.”

 

Paul got close enough to the whimpering girl on the floor, to pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. She began to writhe around in his arms, screaming at him to let her go. “I got ya, I got ya,” Paul cooed.

 

She settled down once Paul felt her teeth lodged deep in his shoulder.

 

Paul turned and gave David a two finger salute, before disappearing with Star into the shadows.

 

David sighed, peering down at the unconscious teen in his lap. He didn’t know what to do. He could always just turn the boy, but he didn’t have Max’s blood currently with him. He knew that his sire would be displeased with him if he fed Michael his own blood—the guy would be livid. But hey, it was a hell of a lot better than Michael kicking the bucket.

 

He lifted the boy up closer to him, and slipped his teeth into his wrist. He stared at the liquid that began pouring down his forearm. David hesitated for a second; he’s never turned anyone. He wasn’t even particularly sure if he was doing this right.

 

Michael wasn’t even awake at the moment. Would he take his blood, while unconscious? David wasn’t sure. _I guess Michael’s gonna be my little lab rat._

 

David let his wrist hover over the boy’s mouth, testing out the waters; he watched as his blood dripped over Michael’s lips. _Fuck it,_ he sunk his wrist into Michael’s mouth, and waited.

 

Several minutes passed, and Michael still hasn’t taken his blood.

 

Perhaps Star drank too much. That’d be unfortunate.

 

If Michael died, then Star would become a full vampire. That wouldn’t really be much of a fair trade. He’d rather have Michael around forever instead of her.

 

He was going to take Michael off of his virtual life support, but then he felt the teen’s teeth lock onto his flesh. David winced at the sudden pain in his wrist, it was an understatement to say that it caught him off guard.

 

David sighed in relief as Michael reluctantly nursed from his wrist.

 

At least Michael wasn’t dead.

 

He relaxed, letting his eyes roll into the back of his head, fingers roaming through the brunette’s hair.

 

 _God_ , he was tired. _Giving blood takes a lot out of you,_  but since it was saving Michael’s life, it was well worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

David must have fallen asleep at some point, due to blood loss. Hearing the sound of a throat being cleared, jolted him back to his senses. All the color in his face diminished, staring upwards. He was met with a scorning man with arms crossed firmly across his chest, jaw clenched so tightly that David thought the man was going to break his teeth.

 

  _Just the guy that I wanted to fucking see..._

 

“What the hell happened here?” Max asked his childe, taking the disaster of an image into his senses.

 

The blonde could tell that his old man was already passed being enraged. The guy was probably going to snap his neck any second; Max had the right to though, David fucked up, probably worse than he’s ever done in his whole history of being a vampire.

 

Looking down at the crimson covered brunette that was nestled against his person, he gave Max the most honest answer that he could come up with. “Star happened.”  _Max is going to have a field day..._

 

Max crouched down next to the two of them, eyes focused on Michael’s bloodstained neck and face. He reached in towards the nape of brunette’s neck, dipping his fingers in the still bleeding bite marks that Star left.

 

“You gave him your blood?” The older man asked David. It was odd, Max’s voice was calm, so calm that it was making him overly anxious.

 

“Had to,” David mumbled. “I didn’t have yours with me.”

 

“He isn’t healing. Did you give him enough?” Max questioned his childe.

 

 _Why the fuck is Max so damn calm?_  David was ready for the guy to snap, and slice his throat open, but Max kept asking random questions about Michael’s health status.

 

Maybe Max was waiting for the perfect moment, the moment that David was least expecting. Then Max would stab him in the back. Literally.

 

David looked back up at his sire, somewhat dazed. “I gave him enough to make me pass out.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Even though David asked that question aloud, he was terribly afraid to know the answer. If Max said no, he wouldn’t know what to feel or do.

 

A nod answered his wonders. “He should be fine, just take him back home.”

 

Max pulled a pen out of his back pocket. David wondered why the old man carried a pen around with him.

 

“I’ll give you Lucy’s address,” Max said, uncapping the pen. He grabbed David’s hand, and began to scribble the Emerson house address onto it.

 

  _135 Hughes Ln._ David knew where that area of town was. It was in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. Pretty high ground, up on a hill. Sometimes his boys and him liked to hike up there and get drunk out of their minds.

 

The place was about twenty miles away, not a very good thing for him, dangerous for Michael. If he had a car, it’d be easier. Having Michael dead asleep on the back of his motorcycle wasn’t ideal. Kind of a scary thought. What if the kid fell off while they were soaring through the freeway?

 

While David was having his “little crisis”, he realized that Max was gone.

 

_Make me babysit the kid, why don’t you?_

_Fucking asshole, I saved Michael’s life—why make me take him home? The least that you could do is fucking help me. Go ahead and leave me all alone with Lucy’s son. Great job parenting, Max. Father of the year._

 

 _“Just because I’m not here, doesn’t mean that I can’t still hear you.”_ David heard his sire’s voice looming in the back of his head.

 

 _Stupid old man needs to learn how to stay out of my fucking head._ He groaned, _“Fuck off, Max.”_  

 

 _“Don’t make me come back over there and pull out your fangs, again,”_ Max warned him. _“If you’re going to give me that attitude, I might as well cut off your tongue, too.”_

 

 _Ugh_. David hated how selective Max was with his mind reading capabilities.

 

Even though David couldn’t (for the most part), he was fairly sure that Max could read his thoughts 24/7. Truly got on David’s nerves.

 

It was rare that Max ever actually butt in and scolded him. Usually, Max would get pissed off at him when he was having his “private time, alone”. Wasn’t his fault that he had the permanent mindset of a hormonal teenage boy.

 

David ran another hand through Michael’s curls, and sat next to him, pondering.

 

Getting up and out of this alleyway, wasn’t something that he particularly wanted to do. It would honestly be easier if he just stayed here; his blood drained mind was restless and tired.

 

He was in no shape to be out on the highway with an unconscious seventeen-year-old.

 

With the inevitable threat of the morning sunshine high in his mind, he finally decided to get up. Honestly, if the sun didn’t burn him shitless, then he’d probably stay out here all day with Michael.

 

He picked the teen up and slung him over his shoulder like a backpack, reminiscent of the way that Paul carried Star.

 

Thank god, it’s so fucking late. There were hardly any people at all on the boardwalk, right now. Good, because if some passerby saw him carrying around someone that had the appearance of a murder victim, then he’d have a problem on his hands. A problem that a little late night snack could probably solve.

 

Having been drained of most of his blood, David felt incredibly weak. Keeping Michael in his arms should have been a piece of cake, but the seventeen-year-old felt like he was built out of solid metal.

 

David felt like he was carrying around a car, instead of a person.

 

The blonde debated on whether he should just ditch Michael for a few minutes, so he could feed, or take the boy immediately home. He already ate earlier, feeding again would be overdoing it. But fuck, Michael took so much out of him.

 

Hunger wasn’t bothering him, at the moment. He was just really tired. Both physically and mentally exhausted.

 

Once he reached his parked motorcycle, he wanted to drop Michael like a bad memory. The feeling in his arms has been reduced to nothing, might as well have noodles in replace of his arms.

 

He laid Michael on the road pavement for all of two seconds, needed a breather.

Before he had the time to face his demons and take Michael home, David’s eyes were blinded by the strong, flashing headlights of a car, a familiar car, at that.

 

Maybe his vision had actually been reduced to shit, because he swore that Max’s car was right out in front of him. Blinking, letting his eyes adjust to the light, it was Max, in all his nerdy glory.

 

David thought that his sire had already gone home. Max was just full of surprises, tonight.

 

 _“Get your ass in the car, before I change my mind and leave you stranded here.”_ Max sounded just as mentally defeated as David was, staring at him through the windshield, eyeglasses gleaming from the lights radiating off the front of his car.

 

David’s eyes wandered towards his motorcycle. It definitely couldn’t fit in the trunk of Max’s tiny ass car.  _“What about my bike?”_

 

Max wasn’t in the mood to play 20 questions with his childe, tonight. He rolled down the passenger seat window, growling, “Forget about the goddamn motorcycle for a second. You can come back and get it later. Just get Michael in the car, now.” 

 

“Take a fucking chill pill, why don’t ya?”

 

David opened up the car door, and carefully pushed the brunette into the backseat, shutting the door and taking shotgun in the passenger seat.

 

Max drove in absolute silence, not that David was complaining. It was nice not to hear his sire’s voice, for awhile.

 

“I thought it was my job to take Michael home,” David made his voice present for the first time, in about five minutes.

 

Not taking his eyes off the road, Max replied: “Well, I’d rather have Michael go home alive, than in fucking pieces, and knowing you, he’d never make it home in one piece.”

 

For the first time in months, David admitted defeat, and submitted.

 

* * *

 

 

Dwayne sat alongside a child that was clinging to a teddy bear. The kid smushed his face into it, dry tears coating his cheeks, the effects of fear induced trauma still present in his eyes.

 

Star laid across from them, completely knocked out, blood smeared over almost every crevice of her body.

 

Laddie wouldn’t even look at the girl.

 

Dwayne knew that the kid would never truly be the same. He was fucked for life.

 

It took Dwayne forever too calm Laddie down.

 

The boy’s seen Dwayne covered from head to toe in blood, never seemed to care. But seeing Star, on the other hand, was too much for him to bear.

 

Star took care of him, watched him, made sure that he was okay. She told him that they’d find a way to become human again, so he could return home to his worried parents, to a happy, secured home.

 

The boy lost all hope. He knew that he’d eventually have to resort to the inevitable.

 

If Star wasn’t strong enough to stay in control, then he’d never be.

 

Star’s been a halfling much longer than Laddie.

 

Max created the boy in an effort to make Star go through the change, fully. 

 

Star’s number one excuse for not wanting to kill is, because she wanted to be able to grow up and have kids of her own, a dream that was physically impossible as a vampire. It wasn’t impossible to still be impregnated as a vampire, but it was very impossible to grow old, because, y’know—the immortality bullshit.

 

Max’s solution to the problem was luring a child into his grasp and turning him, and then, basically throwing Laddie into her arms, saying: “here’s your damn kid. You can be a mother to him.”

 

That was probably the angriest that Dwayne has ever seen the girl. Making Laddie into a vampire, made Star hate Max even more than she already did. Dwayne didn’t blame her. The poor boy wasn’t fit to be a member of the famous living dead, neither was she.

 

Max was the sole master of tragedy. He forced his “gift” of immortality onto all of them, didn’t give anyone a fighting choice.

 

And to think, Max wanted to douse the whole Emerson clan in vampirism.

 

In all of his 1000 plus years, Max has never had one good idea, just a million stupid ones.

 

Laddie scooted over towards Dwayne, and rested his head on his lap, whimpering. Star really fucked the kid over.

 

Vampirism was no child’s play.

 

Dwayne sighed, brushing the boy’s hair out of his tear stricken face.

 

Poor kid.

 

“I wanna go home,” Laddie whined.

 

Dwayne wished that the boy could do that. Never a day that Laddie was a vampire, was a happy one. As long as the kid still had sharp teeth and claws, he’d never be able to go back home to his family.

 

“You know that you can’t do that, kid,” Dwayne said. “Too dangerous.”

 

Laddie lifted his head off and out of the full vampire’s lap, tears bubbling up in his eyes, again.

 

A halfling, like him, couldn’t be trusted around a human family. They’d all be dead in a few days, maybe a week if he was lucky.

 

“I’ll be careful—“ Laddie cut his own words out of his mouth, once he saw the look of disapproval on the older vampire’s face.

 

“That’s what Star said, and she learned that no one can be careful, as a vampire.”

 

Tears were gushing out of Laddie’s eyes, faster than a waterfall, just because Dwayne mentioned the Star accident.

 

“I’m sorry.” Dwayne sincerely was. He sighed, knowing only one way how to make things somewhat better for the boy. He met the boy’s gaze, eyes becoming yellow and animalistic. “Go to sleep, things will be better tomorrow.”

 

Everything went white, and then very dark for the halfling.

 

Pitch black.

 

* * *

 

 

Max ditched him, and left him alone with Michael, as soon as they reached the Emerson residence. David decided not to complain about this, because he was tired and not in the mood to fight anymore. He just needed to get Michael inside, and then go back to the boardwalk to retrieve his bike. To think of it, David probably had to bring back Michael’s bike, as well.  _Great._

 

He carried the brunette, bridal style, up to the front porch. Michael was all deadweight, and he hated it.

 

Of course the door wasn’t unlocked, that’d be silly.

 

He began walking around the outside perimeter of Lucy’s huge ass house, in search of an open window. Every time he came across a window, he had to gently lay Michael down on the ground, and float up towards the escape route.

 

Everyone in Michael’s family must be brainiacs, aware of the dangers of Santa Carla, because every single window in this house was sealed shut.

 

_Fuck._

 

_Fuck._

 

_**Fuck.** _

 

It was almost two in the morning; David could be partying it up with his boys, back at the hotel, but no...he was locked out of Max’s stupid girlfriend’s house, with an unconscious teenager.

 

He returned to the front of the house, climbed up the steps, and sat his tired ass down, Michael sprawled out on the ground. David put his head in his hands, and held back the urge to scream his head off.

 

David wanted to give up and pass out from exhaustion, on Michael’s front porch. Sleep sounded so nice...but being reduced to a pile of sunburnt ash, wasn’t as nice.

 

Before he very well fell into a dreamless sleep, his ears perked up. Turning his head to look besides him, Michael was stirring.

 

The teen would wake soon, he needed a little bit of a jumpstart.

 

“Hey,” David whispered, giving Michael a light nudge to his chest. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We gotta get this show on the road.”

 

That seemed to do the trick.

 

Michael was now staring wide eyed at the blonde, visibly confused. “David?”

 

“Wow. You remembered my name,” David smirked, pulling the boy to his feet. “I’m flattered.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Michael wanted answers. “What the hell happened?”

 

Now, was David going to tell the teen the full truth, or just make something up on the spot? Maybe a bit of both.

 

“You got pretty shit-faced, passed out. I was in the neighborhood, so I took the liberty of bringing you back home.”

 

_Eh, that’s mostly the truth._

 

Michael rubbed his eyes. “Thanks...I guess.”

 

“No problem.”

 

The brunette reached into his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys.

 

 _Oh,_  would have been nice to know that Michael those on him.

 

David got Michael safely home, so he had no reason to stay any longer. He gave the other male a wave as Michael approached the front door of his house.

 

Michael turned to say goodnight, and almost collapsed on the spot.

 

_Oh fuck._

 

David was at his side in a flash, helping him up. Michael was wobbling all over the place, kinda like he was on a boat.

 

“I see that you still have your sea legs on,” David said, showing off a polite smile. _I guess I can’t leave you alone yet..._

 

“Yeah...”

 

David brought the kid inside his house (Michael stumbled a few times, but all in all, he did pretty well).

 

He was pissed that Michael’s bedroom was on the second level, really didn’t feel like trekking all the way upstairs. David underestimated his stair climbing capabilities, well, it was easy to get himself up there, but Michael, he was another story, entirely.

 

Michael’s house didn’t have a carpeted staircase, so that meant that the means of getting the brunette up there, were even more difficult than he assumed. Michael slipped once or twice, but managed to get up there, eventually.

 

The first place that David expected Michael to go to was his own bedroom, but he went right past it and practically tripped into the upstairs bathroom.

 

Not caring to shut the door behind him, Michael went straight to the toilet, almost slipping and plunging his face into it.

 

_Oh my god._

 

The nauseating sound of Michael retching into the toilet bowl, made David scared shitless. Even though it was totally and utterly disgusting, it was quite the sight.

 

Michael was puking up pure blood, David’s blood, to be exact.

 

The brunette’s body was rejecting his blood. It was rejecting the change, entirely.

 

Max told him about this occurrence before. The human body could react to the intake of vampire blood in two different ways: the blood slowly spreads throughout their entire body, getting into the bloodstream, resulting in a half vampire. Or in the way that Michael displayed, the body tries to get rid of it.

 

If the host is weak, the blood easily overtakes them, spreading like a disease. Since the host is practically powerless against the virus, they will quickly be susceptible to the change.

 

If the host is strong, on the other hand, then they are able to fight off the virus before it even gets into their bloodstream, by emptying the contents of their stomach. No vampire blood in their body, no transformation.

 

So, Michael’s body wasn’t in the mood to changing, at the moment. That’s when David started panicking.

 

David’s blood was supposed to replenish the fluids that Star so kindly removed from him, but since Michael was throwing up, they were back to square one.

 

Michael was now just as vulnerable as he was when David found him dying and bleeding.

 

David’s mind was chanting out a chorus of “oh shit”, over and over again.

 

Michael flushed the toilet after puking his guts out, and promptly fell onto the bathroom floor. David rushed to his side once more.

 

“Woah, woah—I got ya.” David lifted the boy off his feet and into his arms. “You’re gonna be alright.”

 

David lied to Michael to keep him from freaking out. He didn’t know if Michael was going to survive this.

 

Michael was probably as good as gone.

 

In no time at all, David found the boy’s room and placed him in his bed. As soon as Michael hit the covers, he almost fell asleep.

 

David snapped his fingers, “Hey—I know that you’re tired, but you can’t go to sleep, yet.”

 

“Why not?” Michael asked with a yawn. He sounded like a curious four-year-old.

 

 _Because you’ll fucking die,_ he wanted to say, but decided on a panicked “You just can’t right now, okay?”

 

Michael wasn’t going to fucking make it, and it was all Star’s damn fault.

 

It was always _her_  fault.

 

His mind was going a million miles, trying to figure what the hell he could do. It always came back to one conclusion: try it again.

 

Maybe, just maybe if he gave Michael his blood again, it’d work.

 

It’s worked before. That’s how it happened with his own self.

 

Max had to feed him his blood multiple times before it actually went into effect, along with his brothers. Didn’t happen that way with Star or Laddie—they were weak enough for the blood to work almost immediately. That should have been a warning sign for Max—they should have never been turned.

 

David bit into his wrist for the second time, that night. Only this time, Michael was awake and aware.

 

He expected the teen to scream, that’s what they all did when faced with fang-toothed, snarling monster. Michael didn’t, maybe it was thefact that he was so very near death, but the teen just stared at him, with an almost childlike curiosity,  _waiting._

 

Michael didn’t pull away. He gave in.

 

The brunette drank deeply, pulling David in closer, humming around his wrist. To say that the blonde was surprised, was an understatement.

 

Michael was breathing rather heavily, heart racing.

 

Maybe David was too late. If he was, at least Michael would go out with the best meal known to man, the best taste that the human brain could perceive.

 

The entire time that Michael drank from him, the boy’s eyes stayed wide, pupils seemed to stay dilated forever, irises disappearing into pure blackness.

 

Now, Michael was barely breathing at all, breaths less often than steady, hitching. His heart was going to give out soon.

 

Michael slowly tore himself off of David’s wrist, and fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes, oh so very tightly.

 

No sounds came from the boy; it was nerve-wrackingly silent.

 

Michael’s eyes opened, ever so slightly. A small smile escaped the blonde vampire.

_Golden._


	4. The Resurrectionist, or An Existential Crisis in .stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy’s concerned.  
> Sam is bored.  
> Grandpa doesn’t like people touching his bottom fridge shelf.  
> Michael got pretty lit.  
> And the Frogs are just dumbasses.
> 
>  
> 
> The Resurrectionist, or An Existential Crisis in C# and .stitches, both songs by Frank Iero and the Patience

Lucy’s body was completely shrouded in disappointment.

 

Michael went out last night, despite her specifically telling him that he couldn’t.

 

She thought that things were going well, between them. They were laughing and having fun in the kitchen, only the two of them, enjoying each other’s presence, but _I guess it just wasn’t enough._

 

Michael completely ignored her, made her feel like a joke, like she didn’t even deserve the title of being a mother; she was an embarrassment to the word, itself.

 

Looking in the bathroom mirror, Lucy wondered where she went wrong. _Probably when I decided to jump into the back seat of Nate’s car...ugh._  She ran a comb through her shower-wet hair. _Why did I ever find that asshole attractive?_

 

Michael and Sam could have had a decent father, one that didn’t stay out at the bar all night, one that kissed her and meant it, one that didn’t leave scars...

 

Blasting the negative thoughts out of her head about her ex-husband, Lucy left the bathroom, and walked down the hallway. She paused once she approached her eldest son’s room. The door was shut, but she wasn’t even aware if Michael came home last night. He’d be in deep shit if she found a completely empty room.

 

Lucy hesitantly turned the doorknob, and peered inside his room. Her face flushed with relief, seeing the teenage boy sprawled out on his twin bed. She did a double take, noticing that Michael was fully dressed; he still had his shoes on.

 

  _Some night._ Michael must have gotten really fucked up if didn’t bother taking his shoes off.

 

She hoped that he hadn’t gotten into some real trouble. Lucy didn’t exactly want to relive the night of her son’s 17th birthday; a jail cell didn’t make for a very good party location. _Gee, can’t wait for his 18th..._

 

Lucy quietly closed her son’s bedroom door, and resumed her way through the hall.

 

She scurried down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Taking a glance at the clock on the microwave, Lucy realized that she had two whole hours before her shift started at the video store.

 

Breakfast was mandatory, and she had the time to prepare it.

 

Lucy got out a frying pan and a bowl, and opened up the refrigerator door. She pulled out a carton of eggs that was sitting on the top shelf, disappointed when noticing how light the contents felt. She opened it and was rewarded with more disappointment: one single egg.

 

Working at the video store always left her without much time to spend for grocery shopping. It would be nice if Michael went down to _Vons_ for her, once and awhile; the kid didn’t do much, and if he was going to waste time, then she’d rather it be at the grocery store.

 

If her father got his hands off of little dead creatures, and onto the wheel of his car, that’d be nice as well. _Dad never gets out,_  it would be a grand opportunity for the old man.

 

She cracked the egg into a bowl, stirred it, poured it into the heating frying pan on the stove, and began to make scrambled eggs, _or I guess, scrambled egg._

 

Along with some bread toasting in the toaster, that was all that she really had to make. It was a sad excuse for breakfast, but hell, they were roughing it.

 

The sound of feet pattering on the stairs, made itself apparent, and soon enough, her youngest son shuffled his way into her vision.

 

“Hi, Mom,” Sam yawned. He peered over her shoulder, rubbing his eye. “Eggs?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sam took a seat, and tapped his fingers on the surface of the kitchen table, waiting.

 

Lucy set a plate on the table, and dished out her son a bit of food.

 

She poured herself a cup of scalding hot coffee, and sat down next to him, saying: “Do you know what time your brother got home, last night?”

 

Sam said “no”, but his voice was heavily masked with the sound of chewing.

 

She crossed her arms. “I’m not sure, either, but it must have been pretty darn late, because I was already asleep.”

 

“Mom, you went to bed at like ten o’clock, that’s not that late.”

 

_That’s not **that** late. Yeah, sure._

 

“Sam, do I have to remind you that I work in the morning? I can’t stay awake all night.” Her son just rolled his eyes at her. Great, he was picking up the ‘Michael Attitude’ from his brother. “Well, what time did you go to sleep?”

 

By the look on her son’s face, it must have been late.

 

“Um...at like twelve...” he admitted with an honest, but fake smile. She could tell that Sam knew that he was going to be scolded with his answer.

 

“Sam!”

 

“What?”

 

“School is going to start soon. You can’t get into the habit of going to bed so late, Mister!” Lucy wagged a finger at her son, disappointed.

 

“Mom...” Sam was met with a look of utter disapproval. Sighing, he mumbled, “Fine.”

 

“You’re not the only who’s in trouble, Sam. When your brother wakes up, let him know that he has lost all of his privileges: no talking on the phone, no using his car, and most definitely—no leaving the house.”

 

Sam pouted, but didn’t object; he continued to eat his breakfast.

 

Lucy slowly sipped her coffee, and sighed. She hated being the bad cop, but her children needed to learn from their actions, especially Michael.

 

Michael was almost an adult, and as long as he was living with her, his awful behavior wouldn’t be permitted in the house.

 

There was no way in hell that Michael would be happy, but it was for his own good. _Hope he learns his lesson,_ but hoping never did anything. The poor boy never learned.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam was bored out of his mind. There was absolutely nothing to do in his grandfather’s house.

 

If Grandpa had a television, then he’d be entertained with mind numbing hours of MTV, but the old man didn’t even have that. _Like a TV guide is **actually** useful. Bullshit, it’s not. It’s like the total opposite of useful. It’s completely useless, man. _

 

_I can’t listen to music with a catalog!_

 

“Sammy, if you want to listen to music, then I have an old record player in the back, plays all the goodies,” Grandpa told him while he was tinkering around with his dead animal trinkets. “You don’t need a damn TV just to listen to music.”

 

And then he’d complain: “But Grandpa, we’re living in the 80’s, not the 50’s. All of those records were made before I was born, and that’s totally not rad.”

 

Grandpa would get irritated, saying: “All you kids, these days, do is complain. Complain all the damn time. Complain like it’s going out of style. The lot of you need to appreciate what’s around ya, and shut your damn mouths,” before swatting him away from his work bench like an annoying fly. In actuality, Sam sort of was a pesky little bug, always getting in everyone’s way and business.

 

Sam would end up wandering out of his grandfather’s taxidermist room, and then start aimlessly walking around the house. If he zoned out enough, sometimes an hour or few would go by, but that was only if he was lucky.

 

It was so goddamn boring. He had more fun in detention at school, and literally all that he did there was sit around in silence and wait for the bell to dismiss him.

 

He almost wished that he was back in school, would give him something to do, but then again, he didn’t miss the homework and asshole teachers, so it was a definite ‘almost’. School at least kept him occupied, nothing kept him occupied here.

 

The only thing that kept him sane in this madhouse was his comics, but he already finished those (multiple times).

 

If those weirdos at the comic store didn’t creep him out so much, then maybe he would have been able to buy a few more books. Of course, they had to go out of their way to make him uncomfortable, beyond all hell.

 

_Those dumbasses really believe that vampires exist. What a load of BS, pure bullshit, fresh outta the ass._

 

The Frogs were a bunch of lunatics, thrown straight out of the crazy bin. Sam wanted to stay out of their goddamn way, and leave the mad motherfuckers be, keep his own sanity intact, or whatever was left of it.

 

Sam roamed into the kitchen. He began going in there more often because food was an easy cure for boredom, but alas, their kitchen was as good as bare. Pantry only had a few bags and cans of expired crap, and the fridge had a load of half-used condiments and his grandfather’s ‘secret stash’ of Oreos and root beer (as if it was actually a secret that Grandpa had those in there. A good secret should never be hiding in plain sight).

 

Grandpa was busy recreating Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so the old man probably wouldn’t notice if a few cookies were gone.

 

He flipped open his grandfather’s “old fart” cardboard flap, and pulled out one of the old man’s five boxes of Oreos. _Is Grandpa actually trying to kill himself by eating all this shit? Maybe._ (His grandfather was in his seventies; the old dude was probably trying to kill his life expectancy, because Grandma died and he was all ancient and alone. Cookies and root beer are quite the coping mechanism).

 

He slipped an Oreo out of its package, and into his mouth.

 

“ _Sam!_ What are you doing,  _boy?_ ”

 

“aCK—“ Sam choked on the cookie, hearing his grandfather scream at him. Grandpa Emerson practically appeared out of thin air, rushing right into his personal space.

 

“What the devil are you doing?” Grandpa questioned, pulling the box out of the boy’s grasp, while Sam coughed and sputtered. “You know that these are _mine_ and _mine only_ ,  _boy._ ”

 

“I was hungry, and it’s not my fault that there isn’t anything else to eat in here!” Sam choked out in his defense.

 

“Didn’t Lucy make you breakfast like an hour ago?”

 

“That was barely anything, just an egg and toast!” Sam admitted, and frankly, that definitely wasn’t enough to fuel a growing fifteen-year-old boy.

 

“Whatever,” Grandpa said, shaking the whole situation off. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

 

Sam gave a quick nod, somewhat fearing what his grandfather would do if he found him with the Oreos, again.

 

Grandpa turned to leave Sam alone, but then retraced his steps again. He came back holding a cordless phone, and handed it to Sam, who was still quite shaken up. “Oh, Lucy’s on the phone, wants to talk to you.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Sam watched his grandfather disappear from his vision.

 

 _Dear god, Grandpa is weird,_ he thought while holding the phone up to his ear. “Hi, Mom...” he spoke into it.

 

“Hi, Sam!” Lucy’s cheery voice erupted out of the speaker. “Are you doing okay?”

 

Other than the looming thought in the back of his head about his grandfather trying to kill him, then yeah, he was alright. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

 

“Is your brother awake yet?”

 

That was a question that Sam didn’t exactly know the answer to. “Umm—“

 

“Can you check on him for me, please?” She asked.

 

“Uh, yeah. Okay—one sec.”

 

All that Sam wanted to do was have a quick snack, and now his mother was sending him on a wild goose chase, upstairs.

 

 _Why am I even checking? It’s eleven o’clock; Mike should already be awake now._ Thinking about it, he should have just told his mother that Michael was indeed awake, would probably have saved him from a trip up the stairs.

 

He hated two-story houses, hated walking up and down the stairs—he hated stairs, just in general.

 

 _Why can’t Grandpa just live in a one-story?_ Beforehis mom moved them off to Cali, they lived in a condo, kinda small, it was great, because—y’know—no stairs...

 

Once making it up to the second floor, Sam pondered through the hall to his brother’s room. He opened up the door, and waltzed right on in.

 

 _Damn,_ Sam frowned, staring down at his brother. Still asleep with the blankets pulled over his head.  _Lazy ass._ He was tempted to wake him up, but didn’t exactly want to get murdered, today.

 

He went out, closing the door. “Mike’s still asleep, Mom,” Sam said into the receiver.

 

Sam could hear his mother’s very apparent sigh through the speaker. “Well, alright. Thanks, Sam. When he does wake up, can you just tell him to call me?”

 

* * *

 

 

Fuck. Everything hurt. Every fragment of his being was throbbing. Moving so much as a muscle, sent aches coursing through his body.

 

It felt like someone set him on fire and left him to burn in pure agony. He wasn’t lying; it actually felt like his flesh was seemingly sizzling.

 

Every inch of his body was hot to the touch, but then again, it really wasn’t. Running his hand over his face, his skin was ice cold.

 

What the hell?

 

When Michael opened his eyes, it was so much damn worse; it was so fucking bright, blinding.

 

His vision was blurred and crystal clear at the same time (if that was even possible); he could see everything, but in way, everything was a dark nothing.

 

His eyeballs itched, scratching at them did nothing at all, just made the burning spread.

 

Closing his eyes brought him a bit of bleeding harmony, but it wasn’t enough.

 

He slowly inched his arm over towards his nightstand, and grabbed his sunglasses. Once the lenses covered his eyes, _Jesus fucking hallelujah,_  not only could he now see, but now it hurt less to see. It was a very thin margin of relief.

 

It was beautiful.

 

Michael sat himself up in bed, stretching his stressed out arms and legs. Fuck, he could barely do that, too damn painful, laughably painful.

 

_What the fuck did I do last night? Did I try to fuck a tiger or some shit like that? Naw, I don’t think therea are any zoos in Santa Carla..._

 

It was kind of funny; he barely remembered leaving the house, the night before; he remembered getting on his bike and prowling through the streets, but that’s all.

 

Maybe he got into some wicked car crash, and that’s why he was in so much pain.

 

Maybe he was dead, if he was, then the afterlife was dreadful, practically intolerable. Blissfully tragic.

 

Despite the pain and the burning, he was also extremely dizzy. Michael hasn’t felt this lightheaded since his family trip to Hawaii; flying in a plane wasn’t his forte.

 

He craned his head to the right, stretching his neck. He was met with a sight that almost made him fall straight off of his bed. About half of his pillow was doused in dried blood, more like  _submerged._ His eyes, frantically, scanned the rest of his bed: his sheets were halfway soaked in a brownish crimson.

 

Michael peered down at his clothes. Just like his sheets, the front of his “ _white”_ t-shirt was excessively drowning in pure redness.  _Wasn’t like I loved that shirt, or something._

 

Standing up, it was hard to keep his legs from buckling underneath him. He had to hold onto his dresser to maintain his balance, to stay steady on the floor.

 

He successfully bent down to retrieve his leather jacket that was balled up on the floor. The outside of the jacket didn’t look too bad, but the inside was fucked, just as red as everything else.

 

Michael hasn’t seen so much red since watching  _Carrie._ His bedroom belonged on the set of a low budget horror movie.

 

His mom would freak if she came home from work on her lunch. If  _anyone_ walked in on this, they’d be scared out of their goddamn minds.

 

Michael attempted to get rid of the evidence by pulling off his shirt, and then doing the same with his sheets and pillow case. He’d have to hide them because his grandfather didn’t own a washer and dryer, and he didn’t feel like driving all the way to the laundromat. Besides, if he waltzed inside a public place in this shape, then he’d probably get the police called on him. It looked like he was either a murder victim or someone who committed the act.

 

How he got home, he had no idea. Michael was blanking, and he was so fucking upset about it. 

 

Drunk Michael always seemed to puzzle sober Michael. Sober Michael hated drunk Michael. Drunk Michael got himself thrown in jail (multiple times) and his mother in trouble for allowing him to drink underage;  _Momma was pissed. Daddy was ballistic._

 

Michael wandered out of his room, swaying a bit, and out into the hallway. He entered the bathroom, and was too dazed to notice at first. Once relieving himself, it caught him off guard. 

 

 _Damn, that’s a big ass hickey,_  was his immediate thought, but inspecting the mark closer in the bathroom mirror, it definitely wasn’t. There was no way in hell that was a hickey. The gash in his neck was much to large to be made by a human, but the mark obviously belonged to a set of teeth. Whoever the fuck bit him, tried to tear his entire neck open, by the look of it. It was fucking gnarly.

 

No wonder why everything he owned was stained with red.

 

Odd enough, the wound was already starting to scab over, still appeared very fresh though. It didn’t look infected, either, which was really fucking bizarre.

 

“Well, it looks like someone finally decided to wake up, ‘bout time. Two-thirty, that’s a new record for you, Mike.”

 

Michael froze. He chose the wrong time to leave the door open. His eyes darted away from the mirror, hand clamping over the mark on his neck. “Sam?” he said, startled, not expecting his kid brother to make an appearance.

 

“Woah, woah—relax. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” Michael acting all jumpy for no good reason, threw Sam for a loop. “Are you freebasing, Michael? Inquiring minds want to know.”

 

Michael shook his head, rapidly. “No, Sammy. I’m not on coke—just get out of here, will ya?” He shoved his brother’s shoulder, trying to get Sam to leave him alone. This was a matter that only Michael should care about, Sam didn’t need to take part in it.

 

“Alright, alright. Mom just wanted me to tell you that you’re grounded—she’s pissed off about you leaving...the house...” Sam paused, eyes wandering towards the hand on his brother’s neck. “What are you doing...?”

 

Shit. Michael plowed through his mind, thinking of a suitable excuse. “Um, I, uh—I cut myself shaving.”

 

Sam looked too entirely puzzled. “All the way down your neck?”

 

“Yeah—my hand slipped.”

 

All levels of suspicion seemed to diminish from his brother’s face, and was replaced with an overtone of concern.

 

“Well, shit, Mike. That sucks,” Sam said. “Want me to get you a few bandaids or somethin’?”

 

“Y-Yeah. That’d be good. Just—“ Michael was expecting his brother to fuck off downstairs and grab a box of bandages, but that didn’t happen right away.

 

Sam got closer to him, reaching towards Michael’s neck. “Alright, just lemme see what I’m working with, here,” he said in an effort to move Michael’s wayward hand away.

 

“Sam!”

 

“Relax, Mike,” Sam said in an attempt to push away Michael’s shoves. “It can’t be that...”

 

_Bad._

 

Sam couldn’t choke out that last word. His kid brother was completely immobilized and mesmerized by the sight. The kid wasn’t even blinking, and it was driving Michael bonkers with anticipation; he was waiting for Sam’s eyes to pop out of their sockets.

 

Pure horror has never been truly matched in this way. Sam wasn’t portraying a terrified character in some high-budget scary movie, but if he was, then he’d be one hell of an actor; this wasn’t Hollywood, this was the murder capital of the goddamn world (and Michael thought that driving through Santa Cruz was bad, that was nothing. Santa Cruz was Disneyland compared to Santa Carla).

 

“They—they were right,” Sam suddenly exclaimed, softly, voice barely an audible whisper.

 

 _Who was right?_ He didn’t know, but he did know that Sam was going to freak.

 

Michael wanted to explain himself, but he didn’t know where to start. He wasn’t even truly aware of what the hell was going, himself.

 

What could he actually say? That he just woke up, shit-faced, with a mysterious hickey, one the size of Los Angeles, embedded in the flesh of his neck?

 

Well, yeah, but that wasn’t exactly “subtle”.

 

“Sammy...?”

 

Sam stepped back through the bathroom doorframe, slower than a snail, heart racing. “I didn’t believe them because, y’know—vampires are only in movies in shit, but seeing you...my own goddamn brother...”

 

“Vampires? Sam, that’s just—“

 

Michael reached an arm out, but Sam immediately swatted it away, interrupting him, “Stay away from me, Mike!” He screamed, almost tripping backwards in an attempt of ditching his brother. “The shit suckers got you, but they won’t get me!”

 

“Sammy!—what the hell are you—?” Michael wasn’t able to finish the rest of his sentence, because Sam was already hightailing it through the hallway and down to his bedroom.

 

The brunette raced after him, but Sam won, earning a click from the door, locking.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Mike was bitten by a vampire. A goddamn shit-sucking vampire._

 

Those lunatics were right. Sam thought that the Frogs were a bunch of loonies, fucked up in the head, but no—they were trying to tell him the truth; they were trying to save his ass.

 

_Vampires are real, and one of them decided to chew on Mike like a, like a...dried out piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken._

 

_Jesus Christ._

 

“Sam!” he heard his brother scream whilst pounding on his bedroom door.

 

 _Give me a break_...

 

“Leave me alone, Mike!” Sam’s dog was at his feet, growling and barking, trying to protect him from his brother. “You’re scaring Nanook!”

 

Sam’s attempts at making his brother leave were feeble. Michael was groaning in annoyance from behind his door.

 

“Just give me a second to explain myself, Sammy—“

 

“No! You were bitten by a vampire, so now you’re one of them!” Sam interrupted his brother. That’s how it works, right?

 

“Sammy,” Michael growled. “I am not a vampire. Just let me in!”

 

“That’s something that a vampire would say!”

 

“Goddammit, Sam!” Michael sounded way too irritated for Sam’s liking, too angry and frustrated to be safe. “C’mon.”

 

Maybe he was overreacting.

 

_Maybe the marks on Michael’s neck are from mosquitoes. Yeah, mosquito bites. Perfectly normal...mosquito bites...Actually, more like bedbug bites, or spider bites...or..._

 

_—fuck that—he’s a vampire._

 

“No!” Sam scrambled away from his bedroom door, and over to the other side of the room. His hand inched near the white touch-tone telephone that sat on his nightstand. He unhooked the handset off of the body of the phone, eyes darting towards his door; Mike was still complaining and whining, begging Sam to let him in.

 

He bent over and snatched his _Vampires Everywhere!_ comic from on top of his bed. His fingers twitched as he flipped through to the back of the book. Sam gulped, once he reached the last page, the seven digit number hitting him square in the face.

 

_Pray that you’ll never need to call us._

 

He hoped—prayed—that this day would never come upon him. The day that he willingly called the Frog brothers...Was he really stooping low enough to enter geek territory?

 

Sadly.

 

He hesitantly dialed each number in, long pauses in between each digit.

 

Sam held the handset up to his ear, nearing the last number, and then...everything got quiet.

 

Nanook stopped his wretched barking, and Michael was no longer pounding on Sam’s bedroom door. It was peaceful...for once.

 

_Mike must have given up._

 

Sam had the weirdest feeling that Michael left to grab an axe, in an effort to try and go all Jack Torrance on his locked door. Maybe a butcher’s knife was a good investment...

 

He waited a safe five minutes before he attempted to call the Frogs again. The phone barely made it passed its first ring, and they already picked up. Damn.

 

“Hello, you have reached the Frog brothers’ Monster Demolishing Hotline. I’m Edgar—if you would like to speak to Alan, then press two—“

 

Were these idiots serious? “Edgar, just cut the bullshit already, and—“

 

“Oh shit—Alan, c’mere. It’s Mr. Phoenix!” Sam heard Edgar absentmindedly yell (a little too loudly) into the speaker.

 

“It’s Sambo?” Alan’s somewhat muffled voice came through the phone.

 

“Yeah, man. Check it out.”

 

“Rad!”

 

Sam groaned. He could tell why these two didn’t have any friends. They tried too hard to be cool; they, instead, came off as, like, super fucking annoying.

 

“What’s up, _Sam The Man_?”

 

_Oh, Edgar did not just call me that._

 

With a sigh, gripping the ridge of his nose, Sam said, “Dude, just stop—“

 

“Fine. Sam, if you want to be lame, then we can be lame. Right, Alan?”

 

“You’re damn right.”

 

_Jesus Christ, man. Having Michael straight up eat me would be less painful than talking to Rambo and...tenth grade Van Helsing._

 

“I’m being lame? You guys are the ones being—y’know, never mind—“

 

“Ha!” Edgar interrupted Sam with a satisfactory chuckle.

 

“Alright, guys, just listen to me for two seconds.” Sam let out a long and troubled breath, before blurting out: “I think my brother’s been bitten by a vampire!”

 

Both phone lines went dead silent. It was oddly satisfying not to hear the two teens screaming at him about random shit, for all of ten seconds.

 

Sam definitely killed the mood.

 

“Are you shitting us, man?” Edgar questioned after taking in time to process what the hell just came out of Sam’s mouth.

 

Alan joined in on the confusion, “yeah, if you’re fucking with us, you’d better tell us right now, bud.”

 

“What? No—I’m being serious, guys. I thought you two were supposed to be these ‘super badass monster hunters’, or something—“

 

“We are!” the Frogs protested in unison.

 

“Then what the hell is the problem?”

 

In a rather defeated tone, Edgar admitted, “Well, we’ve never actually...battled a real vampire or any monster, for that matter.”

 

They couldn’t be serious. They labeled themselves as fucking warriors of the undead, and they haven’t even seen a real vampire? Now, that’s just bad advertising.

 

“What?” The shock was forced straight out of Sam’s being.

 

“We’re vampire hunting virgins! We didn’t really even know if they existed—“

 

“Alan! You’re not supposed to say that!” Sam heard Edgar whisper to his brother. Edgar cleared his throat, coughing out of awkwardness, “Just because we never fought and killed a real monster, doesn’t mean that we didn’t believe in them—we know that vampires aren’t pure fairytale bullshit, ** _right, Alan?_** ”

 

“Yeah...”

 

_These two are a total joke._

 

“Yeah—so you can trust us. We know what we’re talking about, Sam,” Edgar said.

 

“So, can you guys help me, or not, because I’m kinda freaking out over here.”

 

“We’re on the job, Sambo!” Sam couldn’t see it, but he was pretty sure that Alan made a sign of salute over his forehead. “Just tell us where you live, and we’ll be right there!”

 

“He means, after our shift is over.”

 

“Goddammit, Edgar. Why can’t we go now?”

 

“We’re fucking working, remember?”

 

“Why is that a problem?—“

 

It was so hard not to hang up on these two rambling idiots.


	5. On Your Mother’s Eyes, Say a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Frogs come over and investigate.  
> David’s upset with Star.  
> And I threw in a reference to The Outsiders because I can.
> 
>  
> 
> The title of this chapter is a lyric from the song You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison by My Chemical Romance

Sam fidgeted around, feet tapping on the kitchen floor, waiting for the Frogs to get done with work. His eyes nervously bounced from the kitchen table to the stove clock. It was six-thirty, _where the hell are they?_ He called the two numb nuts, hours ago, and they still haven’t shown.

 

The midday sunshine already left him, replacing it with god-awful darkness. If Edgar and Alan don’t come by soon, then Michael might end up eating him. His brother would wake soon; Sam didn’t have a chance.

 

The ringing of the wall phone startled him. He got to his feet and practically flung himself into the wall. He unhooked the phone and screamed: “Where the fuck are you two—“

 

“ _Samuel Emerson!_ ”

 

 _Oh shit, it’s Mom. Shit, shit, shit—_ “Sorry, Mom. I thought you were—“

“You do not talk to your mother like that,” she scolded.

 

“I was just talking to some friends, Mom. I thought you were them.”

 

“My god, Sam. You shouldn’t even be talking to your friends like that. If I was around you while you talked like that, I’d get up and find myself a new best friend.”

 

Sam hated when his mother babbled on and on about the dumbest of things.

 

“That’s harsh, Mom.”

 

“It’s only the truth, Sam.”

 

Truth or not, Sam would never admit to himself that his mother was right. “Okay...”

 

“Never mind. I’m just calling to let you know that I’m not coming home after work. Max asked me out on another date, and he’s going to pick me up when my shift ends,” his Mom said. She paused for a second before blurting out, “Oh—and I need you to tell your brother that he has to babysit you, tonight.”

 

What? Babysitting?

 

He was fifteen. Even his mother knew that he was plenty capable of being alone for a few hours, and he really didn’t want to be around Michael, at the moment. He was afraid that his brother would vamp out at him.

 

But hey, Bloodsucking Babysitter made for a good movie title, either that, or a god-awful one.

 

“Mom, Mike doesn’t need to babysit me, and anyways, I’m way too old to need a sitter,” Sam told her.

 

“You’re only fifteen—“

 

“Fifteen’s too old!”

 

“Sam!” She half yelled into the phone speaker. “It’s not like your brother is going anywhere, tonight, because he’s grounded. Michael might as well keep an eye on you while I’m out.”

 

“Mom...” he groaned.

 

“Please, Sam. This will be my second date since divorcing your father, and I don’t want to ruin it by coming home to watch you.”

 

“Okay, Mom,” Sam sighed.

 

“Thank you, honey.” Sam could feel his mother’s grateful smile through her words. “Bye-bye, now.”

 

Michael was going to be pissed.

 

Sam hung the phone back on the wall.

 

He didn’t exactly feel completely safe with his brother seemingly being a full-fledged creature of the night; maybe the Frogs felt the same way and bailed on him.

 

_Oh god, I’m gonna be dinner._

 

He stood for a moment, pondering. Perhaps he was taking this the wrong way. Michael might not even be a vampire.

 

Maybe Edgar and Alan screwed up his concept of true reality, induced him into their vampire-esque, drugged nightmare. That’s fucked up.

 

But then again, they could be telling the truth, because...how would Michael have that big of a mark on his neck? Shit definitely wasn’t from shaving.

 

Or....maybe Santa Carla has a high population of cannibals. _Oh god, that’s probably where Murder Capital Of The World comes from._

 

Whatever the hell was happening in this city, Sam knew that he would truly end up being dead meat, at the hands of his own flesh and blood of a brother or some psycho out on the streets.

 

Now, he was fully aware of why Grandpa never left his house.

 

Stepping outside would result in utter doom.

 

Oh shit, he should have warned his mother. It wasn’t safe to be going out to dinner in this crackhouse of a beach town. Lucy wouldn’t believe him, anyways; she’d just tell him to lay off of the scary comics. Honestly, if he was his mother, he wouldn’t believe it either.

 

If she caught a glance of Michael’s neck, then that may kick things into gear, or she’d shake the bite mark off as a bad hickey and ground his brother for another week.

 

Ha, Mike couldn’t get break, could he?

 

In all honesty, if Michael was smarter, then he wouldn’t be getting into trouble all the time. Sadly, most of the time, his brother couldn’t tell a good idea from a bad idea. As long as there were tits involved, Michael would be there.

 

Mike needed to switch off his hormones for a good minute. The dude was trying way too hard to get laid.

 

Michael having less of a dick for brain would help everyone out, and maybe it would keep him from getting arrested, again.

 

Lucy wasted most of her money on bail for Michael. He’s been arrested like four times, already. Sam was crossing his fingers that there wouldn’t be a number five in Michael’s future. That’d keep Lucy from going crazy.

 

Well, wherever his mother was going tonight, Sam hoped was vampire proof. Maybe she was going out for Italian, there’d be enough garlic in that joint to keep the shit-suckers miles away from her. By his luck, she was probably going for seafood or somethin’.

 

But, did his mom really need to go out on another date? She literally went out with Max two days ago. Sam hoped that Max was paying for dinner—his mom couldn’t afford anything too fancy.

 

Suddenly, a loud-ass knock at the front door erupted through Sam’s ear canal, it started him so bad that he thought he had a heart attack. Mike being a shit-sucker and his mom going out on the town kept him on edge.

 

He almost slipped on the hardwood while dashing to the door. Sometimes, socks were is enemy.

 

Sam turned the doorknob, revealing a rather disheveled looking pair of teens. Both of them had smeared black face paint on their cheeks, and their hair and clothes were out of wack. Edgar’s bandanna was on crooked and twisted around his head in an odd way. It looked like they fell out of a tree or something; there was actually a twig in Alan’s hair.

 

“What the hell happened to you two?” Sam questioned, and by all means, he was damn curious.

 

“How about you try riding your bike uphill in the fucking dark, Mr. Phoenix,” Edgar growled out at him, stomping his way into the house.

 

“Yeah—Sam, we couldn’t see shit!” Alan exclaimed. “You’re lucky that we survived, man!”

 

They were such drama queens, Jesus.

 

“Chill the fuck out, guys.”

 

“No, how ‘bout you chill out, Mr. ‘I think my brother’s a goddamn vampire, and he’s gonna bite me!’,” Edgar half whined, half imitated.

 

Edgar’s really hitting a nerve, here.

 

“I do not sound like that!” Sam proclaimed. “And you two need to grow a pair and buy a set of bike lights.”

 

“Shut the hell up, Sam! You know that’s not in our budget. We don’t make enough selling comics to afford that!” Edgar said, Alan nodding his head in agreement. “Okay, so where's Nosferatu?” He asked, bending over to scramble through his bag of belongings.

 

“Who?” Sam asked, visibly confused.

 

“The Prince of Darkness,” Edgar answered.

 

“The night crawler, the bloodsucker—“

 

“El Vampiro!—“

 

God, how’d he get mixed up with these Hollywood movie dorks?

 

“Oh, you mean Mike? He’s upstairs in his room, still asleep.” Sam’s eyes widened when he noticed Edgar pull a sharpened stake out of his backpack. “Guys! I didn’t say that I wanted kill him!”

 

The two Frog brothers looked at him like he was deaf. “Yeah, we know,” Edgar began, “we’re gonna do it for you.”

 

“No—he’s my brother! I don’t want him dead, like, at all!” Sam admitted. “I don’t even know if he’s really a vampire.”

 

Edgar frowned. “Well, okay. If you don’t really know, then will give him a little test to find out.”

 

“What kind of test?” Sam raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

 

Edgar pulled his backpack over his shoulder, and stood up. “Just show us where the shit-sucker is and we’ll tell you.”

 

Sam didn’t like how vague Edgar was being, but for his brother’s sake (and his own), he trusted him. He hesitantly led the two teens upstairs, telling them to kindly “shut the hell up” so Michael didn’t wake up and eat all three of them.

 

They quietly scuffled through the hallway and into Michael’s bedroom. Sam’s first instinct was to flip on his brother’s light switch because it was pitch black dark in there, but Edgar shoved his hand away, shushing him. “This is the first test,” Rambo whispered.

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. What kind of test needed to be in the dark? He could barely see shit.

 

“Shush—be quiet and let us do our thing,” Alan told Sam.

 

Sam rolled his eyes as the two teens inched their way over towards Michael’s bedside. Edgar and Alan got right up in his brother’s personal space. Sam could hear them breathing on Michael. _Jesus, give him some space._

 

Edgar slowly pulled the blankets off of Michael’s face. Sam couldn’t see it, but he could tell that the bandana-wearing teen frowned. “He’s not glowing.”

 

“Why does that matter?” Sam was beyond confused.

 

“Dumbass!” Edgar half yelled, half whispered at him. “Page 47 of _Vampires Everywhere!_ : vampires glow in the dark.”

 

“I’m only on page 29!” Sam said a little too loudly.

 

“Well, congrat-a-fucking-lations,” Edgar growled, annoyed. “Your brother isn’t a shit-sucker. We came all the way here for no reason. Great.”

 

“He’s not?”

 

“Mhmm. He’s vamp-free. Let’s go, Edgar.” Sam heard Alan say, the sound of feet pattering on the floor making itself apparent.

 

But, but...

 

The two teens were already flooring it through the hallway, nearing the staircase.

 

Sam hurried after them, grabbing Edgar by the arm. “Wait, guys! Mike was bitten by a vampire.”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“Doesn’t that mean something?” Sam saw the mark on Michael’s neck, that shit was no joke.

 

“Did he also guzzle down the vamp’s blood, or something?” Edgar asked him.

 

Sam froze for a good ten seconds. He didn’t know.

 

“Well, did he?” Alan was getting impatient.

 

“No. I don’t think so,” Sam admitted. “Was he supposed to?”

 

Edgar sighed, gripping the ridge of his nose, smearing some more of his face paint in the process. “Page 34: if a human drinks the blood of a vampire, then they too become a member of the undead,” he recited out of memory. “Did you even read the damn comic, man?”

 

“I haven’t gotten to that page yet!”

 

* * *

 

 

Usually, whenever Star woke up, she would be met with an awful burning sensation lining the inside of her throat, a need, a thirst, but not this time. For once, she felt good—wonderful actually.

 

It was so, so very...strange.

 

She wasn’t as tired as she normally was, either. Most of the time, it would take all of her effort to get herself out of bed.

 

It was like she was walking on air, like clouds padded the bottoms of her feet, unimaginably oblivious to her surroundings.

 

Star was fine, at least she was until she opened her eyes.

 

From what Star could tell, she was covered from head to toe in red, almost like a thirteen-year-old girl on her first period, but much, much worse. Shewanted to blame it on Aunt Flo arriving earlier than she expected, but she couldn’t, just couldn’t. This was all her.

 

Peering down, Star knew that she didn’t own a red tank top of this particular shade, the darkest crimson known to man: blood.

 

It felt like her heart was blown into a million pieces, like someone stuck an entire stick of dynamite in her chest. Did she even have a heart anymore?

 

A scream was cut suddenly from her throat. She didn’t even have time to react, a forceful hand met her mouth.

 

Tears began to dribble down her face, passed the clasped hand. Star’s chest was moving at a mile a minute, make that five miles, instead.

 

“ **Shut up.** ”

 

That familiar voice occupied a familiar face: David. Sweet, sweet David.

 

“ _David, let go,”_ she sent that thought swirling through his mind, but of course: he didn’t care; David never listened to her. He stopped listening a long time ago. His hand wouldn’t budge, why should it?  _“Please.”_

 

David’s gaze practically pierced through her soul. It hurt, god, it hurt to meet his eyes.

 

“Let go? You want me to let go?” He shook her as violently as he did the previous night, bad memories arising at the touch.

 

Yes, but David never made things that easy.

 

“Why the hell should I? So you can run off and sink your teeth into some other sorry motherfucker, leaving me to clean up the mess?” He asked, venom dripping through every word. David chuckled, but there was absolutely no joy to the sound, it was utterly pained. “Sorry sis, not happening.”

 

_”David, please. I’m sorry; I didn’t want to hurt him.”_

 

“You what?” He interrupted.

 

David’s nails lengthened, sharpening. She cried out in shear pain, once David allowed his claws to plunge into the crevices of her face.

 

Star felt her own blood painfully seep out of the fresh wounds.

 

“You knew that Michael was off limits. He wasn’t supposed to be your little chew toy. Max wanted him and the rest of his little family to be turned; you were fucking here, we were all here, and you heard what he said, loud and clear, Star.”

 

_”I know, but—“_

 

“But—but,” he mimicked her. “Girly, if you knew, then why the fuck did you do it? Do you know what kind of hell you put me through, last night?”

 

Visions of crimson and desire flooded her eyes. The want became too much; she couldn’t fight it anymore. She hated herself for breaking right in front of the person who mattered the most.

 

It could have been anybody: a mother of three, a sick man that was on his last thread of life, a helpless child, someone—anyone without a memorable face, someone that she would never have a care in the whole world for...but no—she chose Michael, tragically nieve Michael.

 

Yes, Star knew exactly what she caused. She had to suffer in the afterglow of it.

 

Michael’s cries would forever be trapped in her memory. It was impossible to let that night disappear from her conscious.

 

“Star, Max could have killed me, because I was supposed to be responsible for you; I was supposed to watch you all damn night,” David basked in the memory. “I was fearing for my goddamn life because of you....” his voice trembled, sinking into Star’s mattress, broken.

 

David removed his hand from over her mouth, letting wisps of her blood drip off of his fingers. Five crimson scratches remained on her face. David hoped that they scarred, so Star never forgot.

 

That night would be immortalized on her pretty face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Michael awoke in sheer blackness. Every single thing that passed his vision was raven.

 

He blinked once, twice, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. It didn’t take too long before it all went clear, crystal clear. He could now see everything in the purest of detail; it felt like someone put tinted camera filters over his eyeballs.

 

It was kind of funny, maybe a bit terrifying, but he didn’t even need to turn on his bedroom lamp. Nope, it was definitely a lot more terrifying, not funny in the slightest.

 

For good measure, he decided to flip on his bedside lamp. Immediately, his eyes were inflamed in brightness, fuck, it actually burned to see. When did his eyes become so damn sensitive to light?

 

Michael swiftly fetched his sunglasses and was awarded with instant pleasure, once they covered his eyes. He praised whoever the hell invented those lenses.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, and brought back an oil-covered finger.

 

 _Need a shower._ Michael hasn’t taken one in days.

 

Michael began to rummage through his dresser in search of something that was moderately appropriate to wear, and then left his room.

 

He lazily footed his way through the hall and into the bathroom. This time, his eyes didn’t meet the mirror; he had already been traumatized enough this morning.

 

Michael undressed and turned on the shower. He reached his hand into the spray to test out the temperature, and quickly pulled back his arm. _Shit! That was hot._ The water wasn’t just hot, it was actually burning. It felt like the shower head was melting away his flesh. He then tried the water on a different setting, making it a hell of a lot cooler than it was last time. Michael was met with the exact pain as last time. No matter what temperature the water was on, it burned, sizzled.

 

After a minute of trying, he turned off the water, thinking: _fuck that._ Maybe the shower was broken...? At least, he hoped it was.

 

He skipped bathing and slipped on a new pair of clothes. His eyes accidentally met the mirror, and he almost fell backwards in absolute horror. From the look of it, his reflection was fading. He wasn’t exactly all there, at the moment.

 

_You were bitten by a vampire, so now you’re one of them!_

 

He remembered the fear in his brother’s words oh so clearly, but this had to be some kind of a trick. Vampires were only Hollywood legends, not your everyday member of society.

 

Michael ran his fingers along the mark on his neck. Now, the bite was thoroughly scabbed over, no longer fresh. It was healing quite well, and healing quick. He wouldn’t be surprised if the mark was gone in a day or two.

 

Was Sam right? Was he truly bitten by a vampire? Half of him was curious, and the other half was terrified of the answer.

 

He just wanted to go back to sleep and deal with this shit in the morning. He wasn’t mentally prepared to endure this situation that was thrown upon him.

 

Wandering back into his room, he retrieved his leather jacket. It was still somewhat presentable to wear, despite it smelling heavily like his own blood. He had to cover up the mark on his neck, and the only thing that he owned with a high collar was that jacket, so he’d have to make due with it.

 

For a split second, he debated over falling asleep again, but he wasn’t really all that tired anymore. Probably couldn’t go back to sleep if he tried.

 

The only thing that he knew was that he was starving. Felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. His throat ached, needed to drown out the pain with a bit of water.

 

He headed down into the kitchen, and was met with his brother and grandpa chatting up a storm about girls and other shit.

 

“How ‘bout some Windex, Grandpa?”

 

It seemed like Grandpa was actually getting out of the house for once, some big date or somethin’.

 

He watched his younger brother cringe in disgust as their grandfather lathered cleaning spray all over his face.

 

“Look who finally woke up,” his grandfather said upon noticing his appearance.

 

“You have a big date tonight, Grandpa?” Michael asked the older gentleman, receiving a grin from him.

 

“Yeah,” Grandpa replied as he picked up one of his taxidermy creations. “I’m droppin’ by some of my handiwork to the Widow Johnson.”

 

“What’d you stuff for her, Mr. Johnson?” Their grandfather’s smile quickly vanished upon hearing Michael’s comment. The atmosphere got awkward way too fast.

 

“Yeah, well, I’ll see you two guys later.” Grandpa quickly hurried out without another word spoken.

 

Odd, Michael didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever. He just smirked to himself.

 

Sam wasn’t in the same boat as his brother. He knew that Michael was just joking, but that was a cruel joke, even for him. “That wasn’t funny, Mike!”

 

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. Sam glared at him.

 

“That was low, even for you.” Sam’s voice was laced with venom.

 

Michael was aware of how dark his response to his grandfather was. Grandpa’s been a widow for almost ten years, because Grandma died. Grandpa held the memory of his late wife near and dear to his heart, and when he heard what Michael said, the old man couldn’t take it.

 

Grandpa was probably weeping in his car, right now. Johnson was going to witness a tear stricken man, but that didn’t bother Michael that much. People die all the time, and it wasn’t like Grandma died recently. The old man had years to build an immunity to being depressed over this sort of thing.

 

Michael just shrugged him off. “Ah, Sammy, it was just a joke.”

 

Sam shook his head. Michael sometimes took things too far, but not this far. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“Nothin’ is wrong with me.” Michael said that like it was nothing, but deep down, he knew that something wasn’t right. He always had an asshole attitude, but never usually took it to this extreme.

 

“I dunno, Mike. You’ve become a real asshole all of a sudden.”

 

Michael didn’t respond after that, how could he?

 

He watched his brother open up the fridge, and pull out sandwich stuff: cold deli turkey, a tomato, a head of lettuce, and some mayonnaise, all of Michael’s favorites. Sam placed the food on the kitchen counter, and turned to face him. Knowing that Michael was hungry and irritable right now, Sam said: “Lemme make you a sandwich.”

 

It was sort of odd to eat sandwiches at eight-thirty at night, but he was never one to turn down free food. “Sure,” he muttered.

 

Michael leaned up against the counter, watching the fifteen-year-old cut up the head of lettuce. From the sound of it, Sam was going at a dangerously quick pace, but he shrugged it off and let his mind wander off into cloud 9.

 

“I can’t believe you actually got your ear pierced, Mike,” Sam said aloud, words shrouded in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, I did. What the hell is wrong with that?” Michael asked. Whatever he decided to do with his body and style wasn’t his brother’s problem. Now that he thought about it, when did he get his ear pierced? His hand wandered up to his ear to touch the little piece of jewelry. Must have gotten it done while he was shit-faced.

 

“Everything’s wrong with it,” Sam said, matter-o-factly. “Lose it, Mike. It’s not you, it’s definitely not you.”

 

“Whattaya mean ‘it’s not me’?”

 

“What do I mean? Mike, it doesn’t fit your style. Actually none of the shit that you wear fits you. You’re over here wearing a leather jacket, man. It’s not 1978 anymore. The _Grease_ fad died years ago; you’re not John Travolta.”

 

“John Travolta?” Michael chuckled. “I think that I look more like Robe Lowe from  _The Outsiders_ , if anything.”

 

That response got a genuine laugh out of his brother. “Robe Lowe?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Damn, now you’re reaching. You look more like Tom Cruise from that movie.” Sam admitted, another laugh escaping his throat.

 

“The dude with the gap in between his teeth?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Oh, dude—no.” Sam just laughed at him again. “Alright, but why are you cramping on my style when you’re wearing fuckin’ Hawaiian shirts and robes and other shit? Fashion nightmare, dude.”

 

Sam took obvious offense to that, but his voice was still playful, nonetheless. “I’m tryna fit the Santa Carla vibe, man.”

 

“Yeah, ‘ _trying_ ’ is a good word for that.”

 

“Oh fuck you.”

 

Moments between Michael and his brother, laughing and having a good time with each other, were rare, just about as rare as finding a Batman #14 on a comic book shelve. The two of them acted like this a lot when they were younger, but as Michael aged, he lost all off the fun that he used to have. He blamed his father.

 

“You wanna talk about a fashion nightmare? Well, I bumped into these two dorks at the comic book store and—oH shit...fuck.” Sam cut himself off with a long and painful pause because, well, he literally cut himself.

 

While Sam rushed over to the kitchen sink to wash the cut on his hand, Michael stood, mesmerized. He should be helping his brother, grabbing him a bandaid or something, but he couldn’t. He just stared, his vision: red. He was seeing everything in pure crimson.

 

“Oh, Jesus. I cut myself bad,” Sam winced out while running his bleeding cut under the sink faucet. “That’s why you don’t slice tomatoes and talk, am I right, Mike?”

 

Sam waited for Michael to say something, but after about thirty seconds of no response, that’s when Sam started to get worried.

 

“Uh—Mike?” Sam began, trying to get the older teen’s attention. Sam knew that Michael had a bad attention span, but it was never this bad. Michael had the attention span of a goldfish. Ah, he was badmouthin’ goldfish, even a fish had a better attention span than his brother, but now, Michael was blanking, like his vision sobered up toan absolute nothing.

 

Sam turned around to find Michael right behind him, eyes dead and motionless. Michael was facing him, but he didn’t meet Sam’s gaze, he was staring right down at his hand, fixated on the fresh cut that was gushing out blood.

 

“Michael...?” Teen with said name didn’t answer Sam’s call to him.

 

In one swift motion, Michael grabbed Sam tight by the arm, ignoring his brother’s pleas to let him go. Before all of this, Sam had been relatively calm, knowing that Michael was safe and not a shit-sucker, but now, his movements were frantic and panicked.

 

For a few seconds, Michael’s focused from Sam’s hands to his face. Sam’s expression morphed into true terror. No longer were Michael’s eyes a calm, icy blue, now they were absolutely golden, pupils lengthened into slits, shining.

 

“MIKE—“ Sam was cut off of his cry when Michael’smouth lunged right into his wrist. The older teen’s teeth clamped down on his wrist, breaking the skin.

 

The pain may have been excruciating for Sam, butMichael was in heaven. He joyously drank from his brother’s wrist, skin felt like butter around his teeth.

 

He downed as much as he could, didn’t care to slow the pace of his drinking, didn’t even savor the taste. He just fed, and fed fast.

 

Sam thought that he was dead meat, done for, but then he heard the scurrying of claws screeching on the floor, and along came his husky, Nanook. The dog leaped at the two of them, knocking both teens down in the process. Nanook tore Michael off of Sam with a slice of his canines. Sam scooted himself away from the dog and shit-sucker, watching the two wrestle with each other.

 

Michael fought with the dog for a few solid seconds before snapping out of his bloodlust, after multiple bites from the animal.

 

Nanook rushed to Sam’s side, comforting him. Michael stared back at his brother in horror, blood dousing his face and neck.

 

“You are a vampire! I knew it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry that this chapter took so long to update. School just started and I’ve been stuck on this really big English assignment (which I should be working on right now), and haven’t had much time to write this story. So yeah...


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